“That’s not why I dislike him, and you know it. He’s a bastard,” Matthew grumbled. “And I don’t mean it in the biological sense. I don’t know why you bother. He hates you. He thinks it’s your fault he didn’t have our father in his life.”
“We’re here for a wedding, okay? It’s all about Cassidy and Antonio this weekend and making sure the guests have a good time. I’m sure we can get through the weekend without going at each other’s throats for once.”
Roarke took his empty glass to the refrigerator for more juice.
Matthew continued with his play-by-play. “She’s out of the car. She’s tall, like the last one, but at least she doesn’t look as slutty. Maybe she won’t hit on you and cause a big mess like his last girlfriend did New Year’s Eve weekend.”
Roarke and Derrick had almost come to blows when Derrick’s most recent female companion ended up in Roarke’s room after too many drinks.
“Cut it out, Matt,” Roarke said over his shoulder. “Let’s keep the peace this weekend. Do not bring that up.” He poured himself some juice.
Despite being brothers, a complicated history of enmity existed between Roarke, Matthew, and Derrick. Derrick didn’t like Roarke, and Matthew, ever loyal to the brother who’d taken care of him, didn’t like Derrick.
When Roarke’s mother found out about the child born from the affair between her husband and Derrick’s mother, she gave him an ultimatum. He’d chosen to remain in his marriage.
Derrick’s mother married a wealthy older man, but at some point the affair resumed. According to the passenger manifest, they sat next to each other in the plane crash that took their lives.
Hidden behind the freezer door as he added ice to his juice, Roarke heard the door open and his sister say, “Hi, Derrick.” She’d always reached out to him, and Derrick got along with her.
Roarke closed the door and was about to lift the glass to his lips when he halted.
Celeste? What in the world . . . ?
It couldn’t be her.
He listened in disbelief as Derrick introduced her as his girlfriend. She smiled politely at his siblings, and when she finally looked at him, the light of recognition ignited in her eyes. The smile froze on her face, and her eyes widened. Even with her scared-rabbit appearance, she took his breath away. Her naturally curly hair was pinned into a ball at her nape. The style highlighted her prominent cheekbones and the strength of her jawline. She wore a pair of khaki shorts and a loose-fitting white blouse with tiny buttons down the front. The sandals on her feet showed off her red-painted toenails.
“And this is my other brother, Roarke,” Derrick was saying, but Roarke could hardly hear the words. In fact, he could barely breathe.
Someone must have sucker punched him in the jaw. How else to explain the ringing in his ears as he watched the woman whose memory tortured him day and night—the woman he’d spent the night making love to—stand next to his brother as he professed they were a couple.
“Do you two know each other?” Derrick asked.
Celeste recovered first. “Oh, sort of. We met at Avery’s Juke Joint last week.” She smiled up at Derrick, and rabid jealousy uncoiled in Roarke’s belly. She faced him again. “He and his friends hung out at our table for a while. Small world.”
Fear filled her eyes, pleading with him to remain silent about the night they’d spent together.
“I agree,” Roarke managed. “Small world.”
Like a rewinding movie reel, his brain replayed in graphic detail their night together. Their damp bodies intertwined, her thick thighs clenched around his waist, her mouth drifting down over his chest and flicking his hard nipples with her moist tongue.
He could see the faint impression of her untethered breasts beneath the blouse, and his body quickened to life.
He needed to stop thinking about her in that way.
To avoid crushing the glass, Roarke set the juice on the breakfast bar and shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. The last thing he wanted to do was get a hard-on for her in front of his family.