The Billionaires: The Stepbrothers (Lover's Triangle 3)

Scarlet didn’t exactly snap to attention. In fact, she felt a bit boneless and much, much too warm for comfort. She tended to the veggies, then had no choice but to haul her sweater over her head and drop it onto her stool. She wore a white tank top for extra layering, and even that felt too clingy, too oppressive.

If she had any sort of excuse for opening the refrigerator door, she’d just stand there and let the coolness wash over her.

Sam took note, naturally. But didn’t say a word. Instead, he checked on his roast. Then tossed the green beans and almonds into the pan with the caramelized onions. Scarlet put herself to good use—and welcomed the distraction—by trolling the kitchen for plates and flatware. Napkins.

She set the table as Sam finished up dinner. He served while she poured more wine. The puppy expressed mild interest in the festivities and ambled over. It touched her heart that he wasn’t just a lonesome ball of fur on his thick pillow.

Sam set out bread and she tore off a hunk for the mutt, who gobbled it down. His appetite was growing by leaps and bounds.

Not that Scarlet could blame him. Her stomach grumbled at the incredible scent permeating the house. She hadn’t eaten since Spokane many, many hours earlier. But it wasn’t the delicious aroma that had her so ravenous. It was definitely Sam.

She had to tamp down that particular craving, though. Focus instead on dinner.

“This looks incredible,” she said of the feast spread before her. “And smells even better.”

Sam surveyed the bounty, then told her, “I didn’t think to put out a salad.”

“Screw the salad.” She speared a baked potato with her fork and hoisted it onto her plate. “That’s just a waste of space in my mind.”

He grinned. “Careful there, darlin’. I’m starting to like you.”

She couldn’t resist the flirty look she threw his way as she said, “Feeling’s mutual, cowboy.”

And Scarlet was suddenly dying to know if he’d do anything about it.…

EIGHT

Sam had been 100 percent certain he knew what the hell he was doing from the moment he’d taken the tow call.

Now?

Not so much.

Scarlet was alluring. Riveting. Tempting.

So very, very tempting.

Which he tried not to think of as he passed the butter, sour cream, and chives for her baked potato. Then carved the roast.

He wasn’t a man to get spun up over a beautiful woman. Granted, it’d been a long time since he’d seen one this beautiful. Even longer since his testosterone had shot into the stratosphere upon first glimpse. Then there was the matter of his gut twisting when he’d gotten all caught up in feminine tears and empathy.

Trying to put it all on the injured Lab would be reasonable. Sam himself was all messed up inside over the beating the dog had taken. What kind of sick motherfucker would do such a thing?

But aside from being wrapped around the axle by the woman with loads of verve sitting across from him, Sam was also feeling the bonfire low in his groin that hadn’t burned in years. He’d nearly forgotten how all-consuming it could be. Hadn’t felt it even when he’d been prowling his way through Manhattan after Cassidy had been killed in the car crash.

Mostly he’d used sex that first year without her as an attempt to counteract the insidious hell he’d been thrust into. Even though he and Cassidy had only been together six months before he’d proposed and she’d gotten pregnant just a month after their engagement had been announced, he’d loved her to the point of distraction.

And when she’d been taken from him—his child as well—he’d gone numb inside. Had stayed that way on some levels. Not even fully realizing it until Scarlet Drake had slipped out of the SUV and he’d gotten a good look at all that silky red hair, those vibrant green eyes, her curvy body.

Christ, the curves this woman possessed … They made his pulse race and his cock strain against the button fly of his Levi’s.

She’d snagged his full attention from the get-go. But then she’d gone and taken her sweater off while cooking and now she was driving him wild with plumped-up breasts that crested the low neckline of her tight tank top, the thin straps resting on her bare shoulders. Her nipples were tightened into enticing little buds and it was pretty much all he could do to keep from foregoing dinner, taking her in his arms, and whisking his thumbs over the taut peaks, making them harder.

That wasn’t all that lit him up. The honey-colored skin exposed was soft and satiny looking. She had a narrow waist and shapely hips. A great ass.

Sam couldn’t help but wonder if Michael had already enjoyed it. His stepbrother hadn’t gotten into the particulars when he’d phoned, since he’d been about to board an airplane. He’d only told Sam that Scarlet would likely be hot on his trail, because she hadn’t dug up anything substantial on Michael to help her case along.

And that was what Sam really ought to concentrate on. That she was prying into his personal affairs.