Panthers' Pleasure [Impulse 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (2 page)

She frowned. “Why would he do that?”

“It’s a small town. We look out for each other.” He shrugged. “That’s what neighbors do.”

“Evidently.”

He was still holding the door for her. She hesitated for a moment longer, weighing her options. The way people communicated in Impulse might be weird, but she didn’t feel threatened by it, or by Rafe Landon. Besides, she needed to find work and her options were kinda limited in that respect. Shrugging, she walked through the door. Rafe led the way, giving her a good opportunity to check out his butt as he ascended a small flight of stairs. Hell, he was hot! But even the sight of those long legs and that gorgeous ass couldn’t detract from the way he moved, all lithe muscle and graceful coordination, almost as though his feet didn’t touch the stairs. Talking of feet, she noticed he was barefoot. She guessed shoes were probably superfluous if you could move like that. He had the balance and poise of a dancer but possessed a not entirely civilized aura that marked him as unquestionably male.

“Here we are.” He turned toward her as they reached the top of the stairs, a knowing smile flirting with his lips. Once again she got the impression that he knew what she’d been thinking. “We’ll be more comfortable in here.”

Well, that makes one of us!
He ushered her into a living room with a vaulted ceiling, wide, exposed wooden beams stretching high above her head. The room was furnished with overstuffed sofas, low occasional tables, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and lots of thick rugs covered the board floor. Blinds almost completely kept the sun from infiltrating the full-length windows, allowing just a glimpse of the water beyond them.

“There’s no need to shout.”

Startled, Chantal looked for the source of that voice. Rafe hadn’t spoken, and as far as she was aware, there was no one else about who could have shouted anything. Another door opened and Chantal was almost blown away by the sight of another unworldly hunk. He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes, making it obvious that he’d just gotten out of bed. He wore a pair of tight-fitting jeans and nothing else, not even any shoes. His muscular chest was peppered with hair as black as that on his head. It narrowed to a thin line down the middle of his torso and disappeared below the waistband of his jeans. Chantal shook her head to dispel images of tracing it to its base. Judging by the bulge in the front of his jeans, that base would be well worth exploring. Christ, she needed to get laid! She now had good reason to know that celibacy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

When she looked more closely, she noticed this guy had a series of fine white lines crisscrossing his torso. They were almost like operation scars, except they were too fine for that. She wondered what could have caused them. An allergy, perhaps?

Like Rafe, this guy’s hair was also long, sleek, and smooth as silk. Pecs bulged as he lifted his hands to his eyes—eyes that were also piercingly blue and which widened in evident approval when they came to rest on Chantal.

“She’s here,” he said to Rafe.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

Chantal shook her head, completely unable to figure out how they communicated without words.

“Hello,” the second man said. “I’m Vilas Tanner, Rafe’s partner. And you must be Chantal.”

“Er…yes.”

Sparks flew between them as Vilas took her hand. She ignored the dizziness that seeped through her body, wondering instead how he could possibly know her name when it was obvious that he’d only just gotten out of bed. She wondered as well why Vilas had complained about being shouted at when no one had said a word, unless there was someone else up here that Chantal had yet to meet. She doubted it, though. If Vilas had heard shouting, surely she would have, too? These guys really did need a lesson in how to run a decent business. Sleeping until eleven in the morning was hardly the best way to attract the breakfast trade.

Vilas, still holding her hand, lifted it to his lips. Hell, was he going to kiss it? How old-fashioned was that? Instead, eyes locking with hers, he ran his tongue across the back of it in such a sensuous manner that renewed tremors passed through her. His tongue was very long and surprisingly rough, but the effect it had on her sex-starved body was electrifying.

“Give Chantal her hand back,” Rafe said, appearing to find the situation amusing.

“Must I?”

But Vilas, having given Chantal as thorough a scrutiny as she’d just endured from Rafe, finally released her. Her hand felt as though it had been branded by his tongue. The rest of her body was clamoring for more of the same.

“Do have a seat,” Rafe said, ushering her to the table beside the window but not raising the blind. “Do you mind if Vilas and I have our breakfast while we talk?”

“No, go right ahead.”

“Good, ’cause we both tend to be cranky when we’re hungry.”

“Do you need some light in here?” She reached for the blind. “It’s kinda gloomy.”

“No!” they said together.

Chantal dropped the blind cord as though it had scorched her. “Sorry, I just thought that—”

“It’s very bright at this time of day,” Vilas said, an edge to his voice. “The sun comes up on this side of the building.”

“Fine.” If they could see their hands in front of their faces, who was she to complain.

She turned at the sound of footsteps behind her. A small woman came into the room bearing two plates laden with what looked like steak. She wasn’t wearing any shoes, either. Was that a company policy? Chantal wondered.

“Thanks, Rochelle,” Rafe said as she placed the food in front of them.

“My pleasure.” The woman turned toward Chantal. “Hi,” she said. “I work the kitchen here. It’s nice to meet you at last, Chantal.”
At last?
“I just know we’re going to be good friends.”

Rochelle shot a look at Rafe and Vilas, almost as though she was saying she approved, and left the room. Chantal wanted to ask how they all knew who she was. Instead her attention was drawn to the food on their plates. It was indeed steak, huge quantities of it, and both guys set to work on it. Goodness, they enjoyed their steak rare. Vilas’s plate ran with blood as he cut into it, making it seem as if the meat had argued with the frying pan and jumped ship.

“Sorry,” Vilas said. “You must think us very rude. Can we offer you something?”

“Just coffee, thanks.”

“You sure you wouldn’t like some of this? It’s really good.”

“Er, I don’t eat steak for breakfast.”

Rafe winked at her, the gesture so suggestively sexy that it turned her insides to mush. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

Vilas disappeared into what was presumably the kitchen and returned with a steaming mug of coffee for her, along with a jug of thick cream.

“Thanks, but I don’t take cream.”

“You soon will,” they said together.

Chantal had absolutely no idea what to make of this bizarre situation. She appeared to have been expected and was now sitting down to breakfast with two of the best-looking men she’d seen in her entire life. If they knew who she was, presumably they knew she’d come after the temporary position as bartender, but they appeared more interested in their breakfast than in asking her any pertinent questions about her employment history. Oh well, she had nothing else to do today anyway. It would be rude to interrupt them when they were both obviously starving. Hadn’t they eaten dinner last night? Presumably not, or they wouldn’t be so ravenous this morning. They cleared their plates in record time.

“Okay, Chantal.” Vilas turned toward her and offered her a full-wattage smile. It wreaked as much havoc on her feeble body as Rafe’s wink had done just before. God, she was pathetic! “You’re here about the job.”

“Yes. I’ve got a lot of experience. I brought my résumé with me.” She rummaged in her bag and produced the document, but neither man seemed interested in looking at it. Hell, don’t say the position has already been filled. If so, why hadn’t they said so and why was she still here?

“What brings you to this part of Florida?”

Rafe moved his chair back from the table as he spoke and crossed one bare foot over his opposite muscled thigh. Chantal couldn’t take her eyes off his legs, and not just because, like Vilas, his jeans showcased a very impressive bulge. It was more the way he moved his limbs that fascinated her. Even when sitting, he seemed to be impossibly flexible. Images of him putting that flexibility to work on her body appeared determined to flood her mind.
Hell, don’t go there!

“I live in the north of the state, but I’ve come down here because my brother’s gone missing.”

“Missing how?” Vilas asked, frowning.

“If I knew that he wouldn’t be missing. Sorry,” she said when both men flexed their brows. “I guess it’s a kind of sensitive subject.” She took a deep breath, determined not to cry when she thought about the abrupt disappearance of her only living relative. “Max is a freelance troubleshooter for companies who are going through tough times. He goes in, tells them what he thinks they’re doing wrong, and offers advice on how to put it right.”
And judging by the state of this place, you could use his help.
“He went off on a job in Missouri six weeks ago and no one’s seen or heard from him since then.”

Vilas pulled both his legs up onto his chair and crossed them at the ankles so tidily that Chantal thought he must be double-jointed. It had to be excruciatingly uncomfortable, sitting that way on a hard ladder-back chair, and yet he appeared to be totally relaxed.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe said. “He obviously means a lot to you.”

She bit her lip. “He does.”

“Perhaps he got another job.”

“He would have told me. He’s not answering his cell, or responding to e-mails.” She shook her head. “It just doesn’t make any sense. I’ve spoken to everyone he’s ever worked with and no one’s seen him.” Chantal recalled whom she was speaking to and didn’t elaborate. She’d only just met Rafe and Vilas and figured that they wouldn’t be interested in her problems. “Anyway, to answer your question, I did one of my frequent Internet searches the other day, just to see if his name brought up anything new, and found this.”

She rummaged in her bag again and produced the item she’d printed from the net. She barely had time to register that it had slipped from her fingers before Rafe and Vilas both reached for it, catching it way before it hit the floor. Their lightning-quick reflexes caused her to gasp. No one she knew was capable of reacting so quickly, but they didn’t seem to think there was anything remarkable about what they’d just done.

“His name’s mentioned in connection with a hotel renovation here,” Rafe remarked. “Presumably you’re hoping to track him down from there.”

“Yes, I tried to get the people on the phone, but the guy I spoke to didn’t seem to know much. I thought if I questioned the workers in person that might lead somewhere.” She lifted her shoulders. “It’s not much, but it’s the only lead I have.”

“I’ve not heard of a Max Lake hanging out in Impulse,” Vilas said.

“I know it’s a small town, but you can’t possibly know everyone.” The guys exchanged a glance that made Chantal feel she’d said something dumb. “Anyway, you need someone for a month, right?” she asked.

Chantal crossed her fingers as they took their sweet time answering her. She so needed a job with accommodation while she was in Impulse. She’d given up her office job back in Tallahassee because they wouldn’t give her time off to come down here and look for Max, the cold-hearted bastards. She didn’t have much by way of savings, still had rent and bills to pay at home, and so needed a job with accommodation.

“No we don’t,” Rafe said.

Shit!
“Oh, but I thought—”

“We’ve got someone,” Vilas added.

“We’ve got you,” they said together.

“Well, it’s great that you want to take me on,” she said, now totally confused, “but don’t you want to know a bit more about me first? I mean, I could—”

“We know everything we need to,” Rafe said.

Chantal didn’t see how they possibly could, but far be it from her to argue herself out of the job.

“When can you start?” Rafe asked.

“Right away.”

“That’s great. Your room’s through here.”

Chantal gulped. “I’ll be living in this apartment with you two?”

“Yeah.” Vilas flashed that sexy grin of his again, the one that made her cream her panties. “Is that a problem?”

“Er, no, I guess not. I just thought you wouldn’t want a stranger cramping your style.” Presumably they had women back here all the time. How could they not, two hunks like them? She was no voyeur. Anyway, she didn’t like the idea of lying awake at night and hearing them fucking someone else.

“Not a chance.”

“We open for breakfast at noon,” Vilas told her. “You up for doing that shift.”

“Breakfast at noon?” Chantal shook her head. “That’s lunchtime where I come from.”

Rafe grinned. “People around here tend to work on a different schedule.”

“Obviously.” She shrugged. “Sure, I’ll start at lunch—I mean breakfast.”

“Give me your keys, honey, and I’ll bring your bags in for you,” Vilas said.

This was all happening way too quickly, but it was what Chantal wanted, wasn’t it? They hadn’t talked about hours, pay, or anything like that, but she figured they probably wouldn’t try to screw her out of a fair wage. If they wanted to screw her other ways, well, that was different.
Get real, babe, you’re no oil painting, and these guys can take their pick.