“What’s wrong?” she asked, as though the fact of her gorgeous legs on display was not in any way connected to the gargoyle impression he knew was welded to his face. Already grumpy because his sister was pissing him off, a cat was running the show, and there was a gorgeous out-of-bounds, socks-buying woman in his kitchen, Emma’s cheer was not helping.
“You’re an even worse singer than you are a stripper.”
“I know.” Grinning, she glanced back toward the way she had come. “Wouldn’t have thought the sound could carry all the way to the kitchen.”
“I was walking by when it assaulted my ears. Kevin didn’t like it, either.” Kevin had actually sat there listening like it was the most soothing lullaby. Idiot.
Her good humor remained undiminished in the face of his surliness. “My sister and I used to sing that song constantly when we were kids. It’s so ridiculously OTT. We’d even act it out.” She pivoted on her toes and sang, “Turn around,” with both her hands in a dramatic framing of her face.
He jumped on that crumb of information. “You have a sister?”
“Yeah, Daisy. She lives in Pennsylvania where we grew up.” Clouds scudded across her face before brightening too quickly to be genuine. “And speaking of sisters, are you looking forward to yours coming into town tomorrow?”
“Nope.”
She frowned. “She always seems so nice on the phone.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, she sounds like she has personality.”
Diplomatically put. Brother and sister couldn’t be more different. Liv had inherited their father’s outsize presence and in-your-face attitude. She loved and hated Senator Broderick Kane in equal measure, constantly seeking his approval and spitting at the mention of his name when he refused to dispense it.
Brody was more like their mother, Suzanne Boudreau Kane, a Houston society beauty who married down. Two kids and five years later, she realized Broderick Kane II was never going to change. She could only stand so many of his cast-off mistresses showing up with mascara-streaked cheeks and blubbering lips, telling her he’d promised to leave his wife and make them the next Mrs. K. So Suzanne did all those mistresses a favor and divorced him—reaming him of millions in the process.
Even with this shitty precedent for relationships, Brody had still allowed himself to get tangled in Kerry’s web of lies. He blinked back to the present to find Emma watching him, eyes narrowed to curious slits.
“My sister’s a menace and this whole weekend is a nightmare in the making.”
“It can’t be that bad. I’m sure it’ll be fun to see her and her friends.” She pressed the button on the Keurig. He found himself mesmerized by her slender fingers and imagined them locking onto his ass. Making her own mark. “So, do you know her bridesmaids well?”
His ears perked up at the note of feminine interest he heard in her question. Time to test the waters. Outbid, outflank, or outsmart.
“I’m probably going to have to sleep with one of them.”
“What?” Her brow knit furiously. He enjoyed that.
Casual as all f*ck
, he showed her his sister’s latest text message.
“What does that mean? Is she trying to”—major levels of frowning now—“set you up with a bridesmaid?”
“She thinks I’m not getting laid enough.” He leaned in. “She’s right.”
Emma remained still, just seemed to absorb his proximity with a sexy shiver.
“Why is she trying to get you laid?” Her voice sounded ever so slightly high-pitched. She tore at a sweetener packet rather violently and added it to her coffee. “Is there something wrong with you?”
He snorted at that ridiculous notion. They both knew his skills were not in question.
“My sister thought that offering one of her friends in sexual sacrifice would drag me out of the rut I’ve been in.”
“But you just got laid. Very well, I might add. Isn’t that enough to tide you over for a while?”
“Maybe for a woman. But if a man doesn’t use the goods, they shrivel up—”
She rolled her eyes.
“—and now that I’ve realized what I’ve been missing, and you’ve done such a great job getting me back up on the horse, for which I’m immensely grateful, then I think I’m ready to spread my wings.” He motioned to the wing-spreading area. His groin. “This really shouldn’t go to waste, now, should it?”
Another sweetener packet suffered the same ferocious fate as its predecessor. Vigorous stirring followed. “So do you know this Gabby?”
“Might’ve met her once or twice. My sister’s a flavor-of-the-month kind of girl, goes through friends like water. If I recall, Gabby has amazing green eyes and legs up to here.” He motioned to his chin, then changed his mind at the last moment, and held his hand level at Emma’s nipples. “Superhot.”
“But she likes Coldplay.”
“We’re probably not going to be talking much.”
She squinted at him. “I know what you’re doing. You think I’ll be so annoyed at the idea of you banging someone else that I’ll raise my hand and say, Tappable ass right here, buddy!”
“Raising that T-shirt would be preferable. You’re only wearing it because you know it turns my crank, you witch.”
“You’re a man. Erections occur with the slightest breeze.”