Sexual Healing for Three (8 page)

Donna swallowed at the thought of what other physical activities they engaged in and whether or not they would be interested in engaging in them with her and together.

“Now you’re getting the idea,” Angela said.

Donna turned to her. “You can’t be serious!”

“Why can’t I?”

“Okay, what’s in those candles and potpourri you like burning? Or better yet, what have you done with my sister?”

Angela chuckled and squeezed Donna’s shoulder. “I’m not on anything, and I’m still your same bossy but lovable sister who wants to see you happy.”

“You sound like Angela, but when did you become a

polygamist?”

“I think polyamorist would be the more accurate term. And I’m just keeping a lookout for the souls you were meant to be with.”

“I understand that you’re real big on the soul mate thing, Sis, but I never thought I’d see the day you advocated anything but monogamy.”

Angela shrugged as if the situation confounded her as much as it confounded Donna.

How could she be so sure about something and doubtful about it at the same time?

“Because love isn’t all black or white but glorious shades of gray, Donna, and I can’t stand in the way of love.”

“Putting the cart before the horse, aren’t we? Or should I say horses?”

“More like stallions.”

Donna burst out laughing, couldn’t help herself, and covered her mouth as she glanced toward the volleyball court again.

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Freddie had abandoned the field to tend the grill, and Chance and Russ had followed to grab some eats.

Her stomach grumbled as the smell of char-grilled food wafted to her, and Donna remembered that she hadn’t eaten since lunch. The meal had been a hurried affair between rushing from Safe Haven to court, where she had gone to lend moral support to one of her clients who was getting an Order of Protection against her abusive husband.

The afternoon seemed so far away from this idyllic setting of good food, drinks, family, and friends that Donna tried to erase the distasteful memory from her mind and get back to the fantasy of two men catering to her every need, at least in bed. She wasn’t ready to think about anything beyond that—not with one man
or
two—just wanted,
needed,
bed-rattling, swinging-from-the-rafters, hot-and-sweaty, good sex, something she hadn’t had in a while. She hated to admit it, but she needed release, an escape from Safe Haven, and wasn’t that too ironic?

Angela rubbed and squeezed her shoulder, then smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with indulging your physical needs, Don. You’re human. I just don’t want you to discount your romantic needs as well.”

I don’t have any romantic needs
. But instead of voicing this sacrilegious thought, Donna sighed. “Angie...”

“And if you have two willing subjects at your disposal, what’s wrong with taking advantage of the physical and letting the romantic take care of itself?”

“Does Freddie know you’ve taken up pimping in addition to your matchmaking duties?”

Angela laughed and gave Donna one last rub and pat on the back.

She left to join Freddie, Chance, and Russ at the grill as their other siblings and in-laws followed her lead.

Donna sipped her drink, immediately feeling light-headed and knowing she should get something to eat like everyone else. But she was too busy going over Angela’s parting words and thinking there 60

Gracie C. McKeever

was a definite problem with her theory, as there was only one willing subject at her disposal that Donna knew of, and that was Chance. She hadn’t pegged Russ yet, hadn’t had enough exposure to him. The brief time she had spent in his company, however, gave her the feeling she and he wouldn’t be a good fit.

First, like her brothers, he was almost an entire foot taller than her and, as Angela had said,
strapping
. She didn’t like big men, though she didn’t usually allow herself to be intimidated by them either, couldn’t in her job. It was difficult, however, to underestimate a man when she had to crane her neck just to look in his eyes. Not to mention she was sure he outweighed her one-thirty by at least sixty pounds.

Unlike Chance, who was about half a foot taller than her five-six, which was bad enough.

Second, she got a definite alpha vibe from Russ, the type of domineering man she tried to steer clear of, not that it had done her much good in the past. She’d specifically settled on Peter because he was as far away from the domineering type, like Bo, as any man could be, and look what that had gotten her. Who knew a beta metrosexual could hurt a woman as badly as an alpha, maybe even worse since she hadn’t seen the hurt coming?

“I didn’t know I would be expected to participate in team sports when Angela invited me to this little shindig. Otherwise I would have dressed for the occasion.”

Donna blinked and turned to see Russ. He was busy pulling the front of his white T-shirt away from his chest in a fanning motion, had taken the barstool beside her.

He smelled delicious, a musky-tangy mixture of deodorant soap, cologne, and perspiration that made Donna lick her lips with yearning as she realized what made him as appealing as Chance, just in a different way.

Where Chance gave off an air of debonair urbanity and gentle diplomat, even in his bad-boy jeans and T-shirt, Russ was his polar
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opposite, a hard package of primitive rawness in pressed khakis and the white Oxford button-down shirt that he had taken off since arriving.

One man was an aggressive caveman, one was a tender healer.

Hmm, what’s a girl to do? Who should I chose? Who said I have to?

This is Angela’s party, not mine.

Donna turned to Russ with a smile, tried not to show how much his presence affected her—right to her overheated, tingling skin.

“That’s the Vega and Calminetti households for you. You come for a visit and you’re bound to get dragged into some sort of contest if it’s nothing but a heated game of Monopoly or Spades.”

“Competitive, are you?”

“Oh, very.”

“So am I.”

Donna swallowed hard at his firm, butter-melting baritone and wondered if there was some kind of double-meaning behind the words. Was he throwing down a gauntlet? Telling her he would fight his brother for her? Or that he was just ready to do battle, period?

A little early in the game for that, don’t you think? You don’t even
know the man. Who says he thinks you’re worth fighting for? For that
matter, who says he’d even be willing to fight his brother over you?

You’ve let Angela and her little scheme go right to your head.

Thinking about his relationship to Chance, Donna gave in to her earlier curiosity and said, “I got the impression that you and your brother haven’t been in contact with each other in a long time. Why is that?”

Russ laughed. “I can definitely see a family resemblance between you and Angela.”

Donna chuckled, glad she hadn’t insulted him. “I’ve been told I can be a little forward.”

“Same here.”

“I hear that.”

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Gracie C. McKeever

He put his half-eaten plate down on the bar. “My ex accused me of being a bull in a china shop more than once during our marriage, but she also said she knows I mean well.”

“You’re also good at evasive tactics.”

“Ah, your question about my brother and I.”

Donna nodded, her heart stuttering at his smile. She couldn’t help thinking she should have been having this conversation with Chance, but didn’t think he would be half as forthcoming. As evasive as Russ had so far been, he also seemed more approachable than his brother.

“It’s a long story.”

“Give me the short version.”

“I can’t imagine that would satisfy someone as close to her siblings as you seem to be to yours.”

“True, but it’s not your job to vet the story before you tell it. Tell me. I can take it. Besides, every family has skeletons in the closet.”

“You can say that again,” he mumbled.

Donna laughed, then suddenly turned serious as a thought occurred to her. “If it’s too painful…”

“It’s more complicated than anything.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I guess I feel a little guilty because I might have had a hand in running Chance away.” He peered across the patio to where his brother was getting a plate of food and took a sip of his water.

“I’m eight years older than Chance, but even then, we were still close until he reached eighteen and joined the Peace Corps.”

“A noble undertaking.”

“That was part of it. But I think he left to get away from me.”

“No.”

He looked at her faux-aghast expression and laughed. “I know.

Little old me. What would he have to run away from? But the truth is, I can be a little demanding and pushy. And I wanted him to be a doctor.”

“And he became one.”

“I’m sure he did it in spite of me, not because of me.”

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“He doesn’t seem to be any the worse for wear. And I’ll bet he loves you more for pushing him.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Donna thought of how pushy Angela was, how she wanted the best for everyone in her family and only acted out of that concern. No matter how much she and Angela or the rest of her brothers and sisters butt heads, in the end they all still loved each other, and that’s what it usually boiled down to for her. “Siblings are always going to have their differences. As long as you don’t let those differences keep you apart—”

“I’m determined they won’t.” His gray eyes widened as if he was shocked he had just divulged his intentions to her. He grinned and leaned his elbows back on the bar like Angela had earlier. The whiskers on his face did little to hide the deep dimples in his cheeks, dimples that lit up his entire face, softening his grizzled look to downright boyish beneath the sexy stubble.

She’d always been a sucker for the Sonny Crocket types, not to mention dimples, but warned herself not to be fooled by the sweet smile. By his own admission, he was bossy, and she just bet he was an overbearing cuss if someone got on his wrong side.

And why did the thought of getting on his wrong side make her nipples harden and swell? Did she want him to dominate her? Did she want that from any man?

The easy and fast answer was an absolute no, but the thought back to her childhood, of how she used to insist on being the farm settler’s kidnapped wife when she and her brothers played cowboys and Indians, gave her pause.

She closed her eyes at the idea of being tied to the boys’ makeshift stake, how she’d enjoyed tugging against the light bonds and fantasized about firmer restraints and something more that she couldn’t even put a name to.

Donna snapped her eyes open to see Russ staring at her and realized she was fidgeting in her seat again.

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Gracie C. McKeever

He frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Just a little light-headed. I really should get something to eat.”

He turned to his left to retrieve a Styrofoam plate piled with brown rice, grilled peppers, onions, shrimp shish kebab, a dollop of potato salad, and green salad. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” She took the offering and knew Angela had something to do with it before he added, “Your sister said these were your favorites. I’m sorry I didn’t hand it to you earlier. I got distracted by our conversation.”

She stopped herself from fidgeting, the snug jeans she was wearing suddenly too restrictive. Her moistened pussy throbbed, aching to be free and caressed.

She wondered fleetingly if her sister had put some sort of spell on her but knew the only spell she was under was that of deprivation, one she had cast on herself.

Donna turned to the bar to dig into her plate just as Russ dug into his own plate. She was surprised her sister had included onions in her meal since it would deter any kissing between her and Russ or Chance, except Russ was eating onions too. Great, so they would have stinky breath together. Didn’t mean they had to swap spit, though.

She realized she didn’t have a fork at the same instant Russ offered her one. “Thanks,” she murmured, feeling unusually shy. It wasn’t like she was on a date with him, despite Angela’s setting them up.

“So, how well do you know my brother?”

I don’t know him as well as I’d like.

Donna almost said it out loud, barely missed choking on the bite of shrimp she had taken before swallowing to say, “We met several months ago at a seminar I conducted. We’ve seen each other in a business capacity at the hospital regularly ever since.”

She watched Russ cut into his steak, bring the medium-rare piece of meat to his mouth, and pause as he watched her watching him. He
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plucked the meat off the fork with straight white teeth that Donna could just imagine nibbling the tender skin of her throat or inner thighs. She didn’t stop here, rudely watching him chew, admiring his full lips and strong jaw, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.

He and Chance may not have looked much alike, or shared the same taste in food, but they had the same full, kissable lips.

“What kind of seminar?”

“Huh?” She snapped her gaze back to his, caught in the act of following a trail of perspiration as it slid down his strong, olive-toned throat. She saw his smile and realized that he knew she had been watching him and that he enjoyed being the cynosure.

Oh yeah, this one was arrogant, had all the makings of a domineering leader. She knew the type, had been dealing with his kind for years.

“The seminar?” Russ prompted.

“It was on domestic abuse—how to spot the signs and what actions to take once you do.”

“You work at the hospital then?”

His gray gaze never left her face. His expression was attentive and intense, as if he was interested in what she had to say. Maybe that was why she opened up to say, “Actually, no. I’m a social worker by trade and the CEO at Safe Haven. It’s a domestic abuse shelter.”