And she squirmed a little in her seat at the sudden tickle along her clit.
She added, “I have two sets of friends who enjoy a ménage à tiros arrangement. Quite successfully, in fact.”
“Huh. Guess I didn’t think you’d appr
ove of the alternative lifestyle.”
“Well, I am from California,” she told him. “And as I told you, I like some adventure in my life.”
She instantly clamped down on her lower lip. Oops. Was that opening a can of worms or what?
Had Scarlet just implied that she was more than amenable to a threesome?
Releasing her lip—thankful the lipstick she typically wore in her signature crimson color was of the stay-put variety—she squared her shoulders and brazenly returned his gaze.
“Interesting,” he said, his tone low and soul stirring. His blue eyes blazed bright enough to melt her right off her stool. “Why’d you only read Michael’s alibi?”
Scarlet’s mind faltered. For the first time, she was having trouble keeping up with the quick-fire questioning. Because her brain was stuck on the forbidden.
Sam and Michael enjoyed pleasuring one woman at the same time.
Holy Jesus.
“Scarlet?” Sam prompted her, a tinge of amusement in his tone.
He knew exactly the direction in which her thoughts ran. She was certain of it.
Scarlet cleared her throat again.
How was this all getting so complicated?
Focus!
It was no easy feat, but she got her brain to shift to business again. She said, “Michael caught my attention because five million dollars had been deposited into his account right around the time the insurance check came in.”
That was basically an auto-reply, because it was insanely difficult to concentrate on her case when her body was going up in flames. Her nipples pebbled behind her lacy bra and she was damn certain she was wet. Again. As much as she’d been the night before.
What the hell were these men doing to her?
She’d gone a couple of years without so much as a spark. Now in two days she’d met two men who had her revved to the core of her being.
But she wouldn’t drop the ball. So she added, “Unfortunately, I discovered that you’d received the same amount.” She gave him a hard look. “Just three weeks after Michael.”
To his credit, Sam didn’t seem even mildly taken aback. He said, “Michael had inherited some property and he flipped a portion of it. That’s how he started building his fortune.”
“And where’d the five mil come from that you ended up with?”
Sam stepped away and carefully settled the snoozing dog in his bed. Then he washed his hands again. Checked on the onions. Finally, he rested his sinewy forearms on the countertop and leaned toward Scarlet. Close enough that she could inhale the faint scent of some ultra-manly cologne and his natural heat.
She resisted the compulsion to close her eyes and take a deep breath, draw in his very essence. Let it ribbon through her, caress her heart, her soul. Stroke her slowly, blissfully. Until she was drowning in him.
It was damn near impossible not to cave to this new desire. But she fought its allure. Remained dedicated to her inquisition.
“About the money in your account…?” she asked, all breathy and not the tiniest bit professional sounding. Christ, her eyes were probably all soft and seductive.
His gaze still holding hers, Sam said, “My windfall was an inheritance, too. I moved into the Vandenberg estate when I was sixteen, with only a handful of nickels to rub together. My mother wasn’t much better off. She’d moved us from Colorado to New York because she was hoping to get in at an art gallery—as more than a volunteer. She hadn’t realized she needed a degree, not just book knowledge.”
He sipped his wine, then continued. “While living in Mitcham’s house and the perks improved our situation astronomically—I was given a car for my birthday, had all the stuff a guy wants when he’s growing up—I didn’t actually have any cash that was mine. There was an allowance, sure. But it came with plenty of strings.”