The Virgin's Revenge (2 page)

“Just me, a book and a cup of hot noodles. Why?”

“Wondered if you’d mind a family dinner.”

Amanda knew that old ploy. “No, you’re wondering if I want to
make
a family dinner, and I don’t. I want my book.” She didn’t actually, but a plumbing primer, while not one of her favorite erotic novels, was still better than cooking dinner for those bottomless pits she called brothers.

“You don’t get out enough.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she grumbled, which she didn’t like because it was starting to make her feel bitter. The last time she’d gone out, four of her brothers had
happened
to be going to the same place. It wasn’t even a real date, just drinks with her girlfriend. Of course, Susie Packard, in their opinion, was “wild”. Most likely because Susie was divorced and a few years older than Amanda’s twenty-six. She also owned Rancho del Cielo’s first lingerie store, where Amanda worked, but she didn’t like to think about how many strikes that put against her friend when it came to her brothers. Even sexy, affable Susie couldn’t get a man’s attention that night because of the four slabs of meat practically guarding their table.

Okay, maybe she could be just a
little
bitter.

That night was what had cemented Amanda’s plan to move to her own place and finally begin a life without her brothers’ constant guardianship. Susie brought party supplies when they moved her into this little house on the corner.

“Books won’t keep you warm at night, Mandy,” Locke admonished, bringing her back to the present. He’d been telling her that for years, usually whenever he found out she was taking yet another class he didn’t think she could do much with.

Amanda winked at him, hopefully distracting him from starting that familiar argument. “You don’t know what kind of book I’ll be reading.”

Hey a book about pipe is a book about pipe, right?

“Cole’s coming,” he added casually, opening her fridge as if looking for something to eat. She wished him luck. Her diet of yogurt, salad, toast and orange juice wasn’t going to do much for a calorie furnace like him.

“Oh?” She had an instant’s flash of her imaginary Cole running rough fingers over her stomach. But since she didn’t have the abdominal muscles and fabulous hair she’d fantasized over either, she shook it off. “That’s good for Cole. He has a healthy appetite. I hope you guys have enough food.”

Locke closed the fridge and frowned at her. “Come, Mandy. It’ll be like old times.”

Old times being three months ago, before she moved out on her own. Oh, all her brothers had complained, connived and cajoled to keep her there where she could play mother to them instead of having a life she could vaguely call her own. All of them but Locke. He’d just watched her, like he was taking her measure or something. Like he was…plotting. She hadn’t lost that thought in all this time, and nothing he had done lately had calmed the nagging belief that he was up to something to drag her back home.

“Cole asked for you.”

She sputtered. “You mean he asked for my fried chicken.”

“Nope. He said you were a nice girl and asked if you were coming to dinner.”

“You burn in hell for lies like that, Havlocke,” she chided, trying to bring some humor into the situation.

Sadly, her older brother had given up on humor when their parents died thirteen years ago. “Dinner?”

Locke Jackman was impossible to sway.

“Fine.” She sighed. “But I’m not cooking. You feed me for once.”

He nodded. “Seven o’clock. Wear a dress.”

She blinked. “A what?”

“Dress. Seven o’clock. Don’t forget to brush your hair.”

“What am I? Five?”

Locke raised an eyebrow.

“I promise to brush my hair, okay? I don’t know what the big deal is—you guys don’t even bother with clean utensils.”

“I told you, Cole wants to see you.” He said it just cryptically enough to make her antennae pick up again.

“What are you up to?”

He turned on his heel and went back through her living room. Amanda hurried to follow.

“Locke? Locke Jackman, you come back here!”

“See you at seven.” He disappeared out her front door, and she let him go. He wasn’t going to say anything. Locke was as good as his name when it came to keeping his mouth shut.

Oh, yeah. Her big brother was definitely up to something. Amanda didn’t even want to think about what it could be.

“Can’t we eat?” It was Andrew’s turn to ask. Cole stifled a sigh. The other brothers had all taken at least one turn asking in the forty minutes since Cole had arrived. “She’s not coming, and the chicken is starting to congeal.”

“No. She’ll be here,” Locke said from the head of the table in the massive Jackman residence. He looked stoically ahead, not even glancing at a single starving Jackman brother or Cole. He simply stared forward and willed it to happen. Willed Amanda to walk into the house full of apologies and curtseys, notice Cole at the dinner table and fall magically in love with him.

It was probably the first time Locke’s will had failed.

Cole glanced from brother to brother, each one of them glumly eyeing the feast growing frigid before them, unable to touch it until their sister arrived.

The loud exploding sound outside suddenly interrupted the stomach rumbling and faint whimpers of the starving men. Cole was first on his feet— followed quickly by Locke—out to the living room where he was unsurprised to find Amanda straggling into the house, grumbling to herself.

“Are you all right?” Cole asked, taking in the streaks of hair that fell from her braid into her face. She closed the door, shutting out the orange rays of sunset and stepping into the direct overhead light, smiling brilliantly despite the smudges of black across her cheek and forehead.

“What happened? Why didn’t you call us?” Locke immediately took hold of his sister’s chin, tipping it up as he inspected her for any damage, revealing more smudges on her neck. She swatted his hand away, a scowl forming on her face. Locke was determined to make sure she was all right, though, so the swatting took a few attempts before he was satisfied she would live.

It was like watching a lion inspect a kitten—utterly careless, the kitten all but fighting for her life while the lion clubbed it half to death. Cole hid his smile, since neither of them would appreciate his amusement.

“I had a flat,” Amanda explained, her soft voice always such a welcome difference from Locke’s sometimes eardrum-splitting boom.

“You have a cell phone. Wasn’t it charged?”

Amanda rolled her eyes, her exasperation starting to pull the corners of her mouth down. “I can take care of myself, Locke. It was a flat, not an assassination attempt.”

His eyes narrowed, but Locke kept his comments to himself. He slid a glance to Cole, but Cole couldn’t tell if it was to see if he was taking offense to Amanda’s independence or if it was Locke’s way of saying, “You see what I have to put up with?”

Whatever it was, Amanda didn’t appreciate it.

“What about the backfire?” Locke asked, interrupting her just before she put voice to her aggravation.

“What backfire?” she asked, all innocence.

“The one that sounded like the back of your car blew up.” Locke indicated the outside with a sweep of his hand to the front door just past her shoulder. “I keep telling you I’ll get you a new one—”

Cole glanced out the nearby window. He could see directly to the little yellow hatchback Pacer Amanda had been driving since her senior year in high school. When it was already a well overused car. He had to squint through the lace curtains to see it hunched at the end of the walk. Looked like she’d just got it there by the grace of God and maybe a little dragging. He silently had to agree with Locke on this one—some forty-year-old cars deserved to be put down.

“I don’t want a new one. It just does that sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Cole snapped his attention back to Amanda, who was watching her brother grow an inch all around in pure frustration.

“Doesn’t. Mean. Anything,” Locke repeated, his head twitching to the side. It would be comical, if it wasn’t Locke. He didn’t do comical. Or funny. Or dramatic. About the only two modes the man could operate on were
even
or
explosion
.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was coming.

“Hey, Amanda, why don’t I take a look at it? I’m sure it’s just your muffler needing some attention.” Cole took her arm and pulled her back outside, leaving Locke to stand sentinel in the doorway. His hand curled around her elbow, which was firm beneath the soft white chenille sweater. That and a pair of jeans were classic Amanda. If he took a deeper inhalation of that lilac scent that was also classic Amanda, no one knew but him.

The braid was a nice change though, her corn-silk hair making the fading sun glint off in various shades of pale, palest and gleaming. Usually, even in the summer months, she let it hang loose down her back. The wind liked to catch the straight strands and blow them in a fan around her shoulders, a sight that never failed to remind him she’d make someone a really great catch someday. But he liked this style too. Honestly, he liked most things about Amanda. She always seemed to fit right into any situation like she’d been made for it, and she’d probably looked great before all the smudging.

“You shouldn’t let him get to you like that. He’ll think you’re afraid of him,” she chided gently.

“He’d be right.” Cole laughed. Fearing Locke was no bruise on his manhood. Only an idiot would think himself up to challenging a man over fifty pounds heavier and five inches taller.

“And here I thought you were above the terror everyone else has of him.”

“First, no one is above terror, least of all when it comes to your brother. Second, didn’t I just step into the path of sure destruction to save you from him?”

She gave him another of those rare smiles that always made some string in his body twang. Eyes bright and happy, she dipped her head down, never aware of the stutter she put in his step. “Thanks, but I can handle Locke.”

“Sure.” Cole laughed, hoping the sound wasn’t as strained as his throat, while they came to a stop at the nose of her yellow gremlin of a car. Overall, he’d seen worse. She kept it clean, and if there was a ding here, there and everywhere else, at least it was lovingly polished. He frowned down at the front wheel, a flurry of images coming to mind, most of which had Amanda mangled or in the hospital. Maybe Locke had a tiny point about his sister’s need for a keeper.

Cole shook that idea off. If Locke was right,
he
was going to be married in no time. Cole had zero intentions of letting that happen. So, Locke couldn’t be right. Amanda just needed someone to show her how to do things for herself instead of someone insisting on doing everything for her. Not that Locke was going to accept that recommendation, either. He wanted his sister protected at all costs, particularly from herself. To that end, Cole reminded himself that protecting either of them might mean getting Amanda to agree to a little fake dating.

A quick glance to the front door found Locke still framed by the threshold, only now the windows were full of other curious Jackmans too, no doubt thinking they were about to see a proposal. Good loyal friends. Well meaning, even. But dumb as posts if they thought this plan of theirs was going to work.

No way to immediately present the truth to Amanda. She’d explode and they’d kill him. Or she’d explode and kill him herself. Jackman tempers were not to be trifled with.

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow night?” he asked, reaching under the hood to release the hook and at least give the car the look he’d promised.

“Why?” she asked, sounding vaguely suspicious.

“I thought we could…hang out.” That sounded reasonable. Not like a date at all. His conscience wouldn’t let him ask her out on a date only to later slam her with the fact that he’d only meant to get her alone to tell her what was happening.

“We’ve never hung out alone before,” she reminded, making him wince.

“Sure we have. You’re the only one capable of putting up a fight in the house when we play Risk or Trivial Pursuit. You beat the crap out of me in every fighting game we dig up, and I’ve lost count of all the sci-fi marathons we’ve watched together.”

“You were visiting my brothers. I was just there.”

She wasn’t going to make this easy, was she? Another quick glance over to the house showed the Jackmans hadn’t moved an inch. Better to look in the car’s engine.

“I didn’t know you knew anything about cars.”

He didn’t. He had a motorcycle and he liked it that way. “Not much,” he admitted. It was all the same, wasn’t it? Just bigger…and arranged differently, apparently. What the hell kind of engine was this?

“Still trying to save me from my brother?” She dipped her head, a soft grin tilting the corners of her mouth again.

He didn’t twang like before, but he had to clamp his lips tight not to lick them in response. “You have no idea.”

She frowned suddenly. “Whatever.” She put her hand on the hood and pushed it out of his grip and back into place with a bang. Before he finished checking for all his digits, she was already spinning away from him.

“You never said if you were going with me tomorrow,” he called after her.

She froze midstep, her shoulders up near her ears for a whole second before she turned around, all playfulness gone, leaving her looking somewhat pale. “What?”

“Tomorrow. I was thinking we could talk.”

“This is a joke, right? Which one of them put you up to this? Dean? Andrew?”

All of them? “Why would any of them make me ask you to hang out?” It’d be interesting to see if she guessed.

“Because they’re morons,” she answered, her eyes narrowing.

Hey, look at that, she guessed!

“They’d do anything if they thought it was funny enough. No thanks, don’t feel like being a joke this week.” She stomped past him and opened the car door.

A joke? Damn it, he never thought she’d see the invitation that way. God, didn’t her brothers notice what they’d been doing to her self-esteem with all their overprotection? Given the way Locke was already striding onto the porch, Cole guessed not.