The Pregnancy Test (24 page)

Here’s a sneak peek at
GET A CLUE
by Jill Shalvis,
available now from Brava…

C
ooper’s deep blue eyes sparked,
flamed,
and the oddest thing happened to her. In spite of everything, a little ball of heat swirled low in her belly.

She had to be delirious. From the cold. From exhaustion. From her life sucking big-time. Awkwardly she hopped again, trying to pull her jeans back up, but they weren’t going anywhere. Then she made one too many hops and caught her boot heel on the hem of the jeans. Waving her arms wildly, she struggled for balance.

Cooper merely stepped forward and caught her.

Fine. He could help her and she could die of mortification later.

But he didn’t help. He put a hand to the middle of her chest and gave her a little push, making her fall gracelessly to the couch. Once again, the pink vibrator hit the floor and rolled to a stop at his feet.

They both stared at it for one beat before Breanne tried to bounce back up.

“
Stay
,” he commanded.

Oh, no.
Hell, no
. She scissored her legs, meaning to kick him, either in the chin or the nads, she didn’t care; she was going to take him down.
Now.

But he just laughed low in his throat, and then again when she struggled to karate-chop him with her legs caught together by her own jeans.
Laughed
, as he crouched besides her, a big hand on either of her thighs and said, “Give in, Princess.”

“I never give in.”

Holding her down with ease, he reached for the fallen vibrator, lifting it up. The obnoxious thing still glowed neon-pink. “Never say never.” Then he grinned at her in the firelight, looking just like the devil must look in the dead of winter with no one to torture. “This thing keeps showing up. Maybe you should claim it.”

“It’s
not
mine!”

“I don’t know…earlier you were gripping it like it was your long-lost best friend.” With a flick of his wrist, he turned it on.

The low hum filled the air, and with it came a buzzing in Breanne’s ear—the sound of her brain coming to boiling point.

“Ready for use,” Cooper said, suggestively waggling it in her face.

“Good.” She struggled to get free, trying not to think about the picture she was presenting him with. “You can shove it up your—”

“Oh, no,” he said. “Ladies first.” He dropped the thing to the couch next to her, where it rumbled against the soft, buttery leather while he slid his hands down her legs to the jeans pooled between her knees.

“Don’t even
think
about it,” she choked out.

But he wasn’t only thinking about it, he was doing it, fisting his fingers into the wet denim and yanking them past her knees to her ankles, where they caught on her boots.

His gaze met hers, intense and raw, and along with it a heart-stopping heat.

Did he have to pack such a sexual energy?
She felt her entire body clench with a punch of shocking yearning.

“High-heeled boots,” he murmured. “Ever so practical out here.”

She stared down at the top of his head as he worked on stripping her. Her little triangle of white satin had not only slipped sideways, it was now riding up into parts unknown. She’d had a bikini wax two days ago—again for the rat bastard Dean—and judging from the very soft, very rough sound that escaped Cooper at her movements, he’d caught an eyeful up close and personal. “If I wasn’t so tired,” she murmured, sagging back, suddenly exhausted, “I’d kick your ass.”

“Next time,” he said, trying to untie her boots. The laces were iced. “I guess you were all prettied up for the honeymoon.”

No. She’d prettied up for herself, to feel sexy, but she was not going to argue with a man when her pants were around her ankles; when she had a vibrator bouncing on the couch next to her, taunting her; when she had bigger worries, such as her panties, and what they still weren’t covering. Shoving the sweatshirt down as far as she could, which was to the tops of her thighs, she leaned forward to hurry the process along.

And don’t miss
FANGS FOR THE MEMORIES
by Kathy Love,
available now from Brava…

W
hy would a gorgeous hunk like Rhys be fascinated with her? Sebastian had to be mistaken. But she had been in bed with Rhys. And he’d…

Her cheeks flamed, making her complexion a colorful pink, looking mottled against the purple under her eyes.

She closed her eyes, releasing a hitched breath. She couldn’t remember last night, but she could certainly remember the feeling of Rhys’s hands on her when she woke up.

Heat drained from her flushed cheeks to pool in her belly, then lower. She’d never felt anything as wonderful as Rhys’s fingers against her.

As if by their own will, her fingers moved to the buttons of her blouse. Not opening her eyes, she pretended it was Rhys’s fingers loosening the buttons, parting the white cotton. The wisps of steam from the hot water filling the tub moistened her skin, and she pretended it was Rhys’s kisses warming her flesh.

What was she doing? She’d never been the type to fantasize about men. And especially fantasies like this. But she’d also never had a man touch her like Rhys had. It had been so…thrilling.

She let her blouse fall to the floor, and she moved her fingers to the front clasp of her bra. The filmy material separated, and her nipples peeked against the humid air.

Embarrassed, but unable to stop herself, she brushed her fingers over them, trying to remember exactly how Rhys’s lips had felt suckling her.

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of a quiet cough, and she spun toward the open doorway.

Rhys stood there, watching her.

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide herself and to somehow hide what she’d been doing. But she could tell from the smoldering glow of his eyes, he’d seen it.

The burn of embarrassment mingled with the fire those intense eyes created inside her. She so wanted this man.

His gaze left her covered chest, and he held her eyes with his.

She shifted slightly under the hunger she saw there.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice was huskier than usual. “I thought I heard you calling me.”

She stared at him. Well, her body had been calling him, but she didn’t think her voice had. “I…No.”

He nodded sharply. “Then I will leave you to your bath.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer, then Rhys bowed slightly and left, pulling the door shut behind him.

Jane sagged against the sink, still clutching her breasts. This was impossible. It had taken every bit of her rational mind not to invite him to join her in the tub. What was wrong with her? She’d always been so practical, so reserved. Now she was acting like a wanton.

Rhys shut both Jane’s bathroom and bedroom door, and he still seemed to sense her desire pulling at him, begging him to come back to her. He stopped in the hallway, his own desire telling him to go back. She was his betrothed after all. They weren’t married yet, but they would be soon, as soon as he could arrange it, and then that delectable body of hers would be his.

He nearly groaned, thinking about what she’d been doing when he arrived at her bathroom door. Her hands caressing her creamy skin, shaping themselves to the rounded curves of her breasts, her fingers teasing her swollen pink nipples.

He still remembered the taste of them. The heat of her body. His cock pulsed painfully in his trousers.

She was already his but—soon, he’d have her beside him every night.

Forcing himself to ignore his overly enthusiastic body, he searched for Sebastian. His brother had left him after their celebratory drink to talk with Jane again. Rhys was curious to see what Jane had told his brother.

Sebastian was in his room. He finished buttoning his shirt, then shrugged on a jacket.

“Where are you off to?”

“To the club.” Sebastian combed his fingers through his blond hair. The locks fell into their usual, unruly tangle.

Rhys nodded. “I would join you, but I’m certain Jane already believes me a complete reprobate. I believe I should stay with her this evening and try to convince her otherwise.”

Sebastian smiled, a puzzlingly amused twist of his lips. “Yes, I think you should.”

Rhys frowned slightly, then went over to pick up a tie lying on Sebastian’s bureau. How on earth would anyone get a proper cravat out of that skinny thing? He tossed it back onto the bureau.

“Where is Wilson?” Rhys had not seen their valet all evening. Not that any of the brothers utilized the man much. They all agreed that if a man couldn’t dress himself…well, he was truly inept.

Sebastian frowned, then his eyes widened. “Oh, Wilson. We gave him a holiday—for Christmas.”

Christmas? That was right. Today was Christmas. Good Lord, Jane must think she was the one about to wed a savage. He hadn’t even wished her a happy Christmas. And what of a proper Christmas meal? Surely the staff hadn’t forgone the meal because Elizabeth and Christian were away. And they had left on Christmas, too?

Rhys frowned. How very curious.

“I won’t be at the club long,” Sebastian said. “But I thought it would be nice for you and Jane to have a little time alone.”

Rhys glanced at his brother, no longer bothered by his siblings being away. In fact, he quite liked the idea of having Jane to himself, too. He just wished he had thought to arrange a proper Christmas celebration, even if it was only for the two of them. He had so much to make amends for, he hoped she was an understanding woman.

“Have fun,” Sebastian said. Again that knowing little grin was on his lips.

Rhys supposed his brother found him actually being taken with his betrothed quite humorous—especially after all the objections he’d had. Rhys had to admit it was mildly amusing. If he’d known what he was missing, he would have arranged for her to join him sooner.

The bath didn’t have the desired effect Jane had hoped it would. She was too unnerved by all the events of the past two days to relax. Not that she wasn’t tempted to hide in her room the rest of the night, but she was supposed to be watching Rhys.

She finished drying her hair, then brushed on a little mascara, hoping it would make her look a little less tired. Examining her reflection, she decided it didn’t help much, but at least she was suitably clad, her turtleneck and jeans very modest.

She took a fortifying breath, then exited her room to find the “beautiful brothers.”

She walked down the hall toward the living area. She pushed open one of the dining room doors, but no one was in there. She paused, her hand still on the door and listened.

The whole apartment was silent as if not another living soul was there. Worry filled her. What if Rhys wasn’t here? What if he left the apartment?

She softly closed the door and hurried farther down the hall. The hall opened out into a large living room. It was as lavish as the rest of the apartment, with more dark antique furniture covered in rich upholstery. But other than a cursory scan of the room, she didn’t stop to study the decor too closely.

She rushed straight to another door at the far end of the living room. The door was ajar. She pushed the wood panel open and stepped inside.

Rhys stood in front of a huge stone fireplace, his profile to her, a drink held loosely in his hand.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, too captivated by how gorgeous he was. The firelight glinted off his hair. The simplicity of the black sweater and black pants he wore seemed to enhance the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips.

After a few moments, he glanced over at her. “Do come in. I promise I won’t bite.”