Chapter 2
Devon Brandeburg didn’t see Sophie’s car, but did find a God-awful yellow, totally obnoxious Hummer she’d need a stepladder to mount, parked at an angle and taking up half the parking lot. She knew right away it belonged to Sophie’s full-of-himself SEAL brother, Nick. He’d driven up five years ago after he made it through the BUD/S program. He was so puffed up with his own hubris, he pushed all the air out of the room when he entered.
The worst thing about the guy, as Devon remembered, is that he automatically thought any girl would fall down on her knees and beg him to do the nasty with him. Devon had been so bold as to ask him one time about suicides increasing in the military from a documentary she’d seen. His answer was, “Not the SEALs. Hell, why would we deprive the ladies of some fun? We’re God’s gift to the female population.”
He’d given her that big goofy smile, overly confident and irritating as heck. In Sonoma County, she never ran across such bravado and just sheer braggadocios.
It had turned her stomach. She’d rolled her eyes and when she looked back at him he had the nerve to wink!
But later, she had a hard time putting the sight of his hard body and muscular arms, easily twice the size of anyone else she knew, out of her mind. And yes, she did dream about him that night. That kind of pissed her off.
All that was when she was twenty and completely inexperienced. Hell, she still was a virgin at twenty-five, a secret she guarded with her life.
No, sexual confidence wasn’t something she’d had a chance to develop, but she’d make damned sure, if Sophie forced her to talk to him about his sister’s estate, Mr. Nicholas Dunn would never know that little factoid.
She’d become a successful realtor and made enough to support herself with a decent lifestyle. She’d mentored under Sophie originally. But Sophie gave up her career in real estate to go into the nursery business. Devon became the professional, while Sophie got her hands dirty tending to a failing business. They remained best friends.
She parked her Lexus a distance away from the rock-spraying beast of a vehicle Nick was probably driving, and secretly hoped he’d not be there.
Her luck wasn’t that good.
He still sucked all the air out of the room. He was standing at Sophie’s little sink washing dishes. And he was singing, rocking his hips from side to side. Was this the song from Flashdance?
“I’m a maniac—“
She couldn’t resist breaking in.
“Well, look at you, so domestic?” She crossed her arms, tilted her head and enjoyed the surprised expression coming from this normally self-composed brute. He hit the water faucet with his fist to slam it shut and dried his hands. Then he slowly perused the length of her body, leaving no part unexplored. His emerald green eyes were blazing.
Still the same cocky son of a bitch. Devon knew he didn’t care if he got caught ogling her, so confident was he that a rejection wasn’t anywhere in his future.
He leaned his butt against the tiled countertop. Then he threw down the towel and mirrored Devon’s stance with crossed arms. “Been awhile, Dev.”
“Devon.”
“Right. Still don’t like me, do you?”
“You’re a good judge of character,” she answered. “I’ll give you that.”
“You’re just as scrappy as Sophie told me you’d be.” He smiled as if his approval mattered to her.
“I’ll just leave you to your work, then.”
“Oh the dishes are done. I was going to sweep the floor and then wash all the windows. But you go ahead and do all that computer stuff you realtors do. Way beyond me.”
In a huff, Devon sat down at the plank tabletop and opened up her computer. She set the manila folders she’d brought to the side, stacked on top of each other. She crossed her legs and ran her fingers through the hair at the back of her scalp, took a deep breath and logged on to the internet, doing a property search. She tried to focus.
The soft sweeping sound of Sophie’s broom brushing against the cool concrete floor of the shop was distracting. Didn’t help much that Nick wrestled the handle with such force, he could almost break it. His forearms were nearly as big as her thighs. His shoulders moved with sinewy grace underneath smooth tanned skin. His mop of blond hair went in all directions. He tickled her ankles as he extended the broom under the table and swept the area around her.
“Does that bother you?” he asked. He’d leaned his chin on the end of the broomstick.
“As in, were you trying to?”
“Nope. It was an honest question.” The sparkle in his eyes made him out to be a liar. Devon knew there wasn’t anything honest about him, except for the way his animal magnetism was making her lose her focus.
“You want some coffee, Devon?” he asked.
“Wow. You clean the dishes, sweep the floor, and you make coffee? The Navy must have trained you well. What did they do get some of the senior wives to come in and give you pointers?”
“I don’t need any pointers.”
In spite of herself, she blushed. Damn.
He turned, fired up the coffee grinder and started a fresh pot, all with his back to her. He had a variety of Celtic crosses and symbols poking up above the collar of his T-shirt. She could see discoloration from beneath the white cotton fabric, showing dark tats stains on his shoulders and upper arms. One long stream of tats looking like footprints of a three-legged toad was inked on his right inside forearm. She studied the enormous V of his upper torso leading to the small waist, his deltoids and lats so tight they looked like they’d hurt. In spite of herself, she wondered what they would feel like—
He caught her staring as he turned around and stealthily crossed the room with two mugs of the hot black coffee. Placing one next to her computer, within arms reach, he took a seat right across from her.
“I dare you to say there’s a better cup of coffee anywhere.” His deep green eyes were almost iridescent.
She sipped the steamy liquid and shrugged, going back to ignoring him. She continued to search the computer lists she had opened. Nick slurped his coffee. She could feel his eyes still focused on her.
She didn’t care how long he stared. She wasn’t going to return the gaze. Didn’t the guy have any shame? Or, maybe this is how he chose to process the pain he must be feeling with Sophie’s illness. Either way, it was making her feel like she was spinning out of control.
She frowned, consulted her yellow-lined tablet and kept tapping on the keys. Her red nail polish matched her red suit, but now she wished she’d worn black.
One of her heels fell off and plopped to the ground because her legs were crossed. She briefly looked up at him, only to see the wiggle of his eyebrows, and the unspoken offer to crawl under the table and place the patent leather pump back on her foot. That would mean he’d have to touch her calf as he adjusted the shoe. He’d hold her ankle with both his dinner plate hands, and his fingers—
Feeling very much like an insect impaled with a pin in a collection box, she inhaled loudly, stuffed her foot into her errant shoe, and picked up the pace of her typing.
He watched her silently.
The room was beginning to heat up. The late fall weather pattern was growing hot, which meant some long sweaty nights with the crickets chirping madly, since Sophie’s house didn’t have air conditioning. Neither did the nursery. She sighed, blowing air up to her bangs.
“You should have worn something sleeveless.”
“What do you care what I wear?”
“I just wanted you to be comfortable.”
“Oh really? Is that why you sit there and make an obnoxious ass of yourself while you watch me work? You think that’s some kind of fun?”
“I enjoy watching beautiful women.”
“Really? Women who don’t know you? Women who don’t care in the slightest anything about you? Sounds like a rather pathetic way to spend a few minutes.”
“Not from over here.”
She shot up to her feet. “Enough. Nick. Go outside. Make yourself useful. I’m sure there are some weeds to pull or some walkways to rake.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He took his mug and swaggered outside into the afternoon sunlight. She found herself still gasping for air at the sight of him making his way lazily across the parking lot.
Devon’s heart rate was thumping wildly. A bead of sweat trickled down between her breasts.
Whatever it was she’d dreamt about five years ago was still there. Lurking. Waiting to pounce.