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

She gazed up at him and smiled beguilingly. “Maybe.”

It took a few seconds for him to come around. He collected her belongings and headed into the great room, which she took interest in. On either end of the split-level room was a curving stairwell made of wood and brushed-nickel railing. The railings also extended across the open rooms upstairs. Sam’s office on the right side, his bedroom on the left.

At the top of the stairs, Scarlet stepped into his private space and marveled over it with soft “oohs” and “ahhs” as she noted the oversized sofas and chairs, the enormous fireplace, the big bed. Farther beyond was a large bathroom and walk-in closet, both of which separated the suite from his office.

She glanced up at the wood-trimmed ceiling and said, “You have skylights. I’ve only ever seen them in home magazines.”

“Mine are heated with a drainage system so that the snow doesn’t accumulate. Just melts and runs off. If the sky were clear tonight, you’d be sleeping under the stars.”

“That must be incredible.”

“I do enjoy it.”

“You really have the perfect place here. Impressive. How come you never joined a firm?”

He popped into the bathroom to get the clean set of sheets. As they stripped the bed, he told her, “I’d planned to work in Manhattan after I’d graduated. But I had some freelance design jobs that kept me busy. Then I realized I wasn’t into the rat race, wasn’t too keen on the Wall Street way of life, and decided to try something different. I came out here for a visit when I was twenty-four. Fell in love with it. Decided what I really wanted was a wide-open space for a house and horses.”

“A man who follows his dreams,” she mused as she tucked in corners of the fitted sheet. “Even more impressive.”

“Well, I couldn’t have done it on this grandiose a scale were it not for Phil Bert or Michael.”

Her brow knitted. “What do you mean—Michael?”

Sam snapped open the top sheet and they settled it on the mattress as he said, “Michael advised me on how to take my five million and turn it into twenty-five million. Took some time, mind you. I had to start out with a small slice of this property, plop a single-wide trailer on it, and live there while I built the house myself. Eventually from investments, I had enough capital to buy more land, finish the house, and add the outbuildings.”

“Commodities?” she ventured.

“That and some real estate investments we partnered up for.”

“Quite the whirlwind existence you’ve led thus far.”

As they draped the bronze-covered down comforter over the bed, he told her, “No more so than establishing a global network of black markets, auction houses, and curators.”

“Let’s not forget all the ins I have with domestic and international police departments and federal agencies. Mostly because of my gran.”

“Who does what…? Work for the CIA

or MI6?”

“Hardly.” Scarlet laughed softly as she reached for a pillow, discarded the former case, and slipped on a new one. “She’s L.C. Seymour.”

“Ah.” Sam whistled under his breath. “So the inquisitive nature runs in the family.”

“Exactly.”

They finished up and then Sam brushed his teeth and grabbed his drawstring pants and a fresh batch of clothes for the morning. He stoked the fire and told Scarlet, “There are plenty of blankets under the bench seat at the end of the bed if you get cold in the middle of the night. Help yourself to anything.”

“Actually, it’s perfectly toasty up here. And absolutely stunning. I like your style, Sam Reed.”

He stared down at her, knowing it was foolish to get lost in her eyes, but it was so damn easy. He said, “You are insanely beautiful, Scarlet Drake.”

She stretched on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for everything, cowboy. You’re a real hero.”

“I don’t know about that.” He had too many hellish nightmares of the car accident to buy into her compliment. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

He continued to gaze at her. And couldn’t help but lower his head and brush his lips over hers.

He’d only been wanting to do that all damn night.…