Looking Inside

“Trey,” she called, made anxious at the vision of his retreating back.

He paused and glanced over his shoulder, frowning slightly.

“I don’t know what I’m talking about half the time either. And I do want to go for a walk with you,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

His forbidding expression melted slowly. She saw his small smile before he turned. She was still experiencing a rush of euphoria from his sexy grin when she heard a buzzing noise. It was his phone in his pocket, she realized. His focus on her fractured. He started toward the bathroom.

“I’ll be back in a second,” he said.

For a few seconds, she just lay there, basking in the unexpected turn of events, disbelieving at her luck in being able to spend more time with him. Nonsexual time, even. That had been far more than she’d allowed herself to hope for, let alone expect.

Suddenly energized, she jumped up and grabbed an afghan at the foot of the bed, wrapping it around her naked body. She heard the sound of running water in the bathroom. She waited, thinking she’d tell Trey she planned to jump in the shower for a minute before their walk and dinner.

He walked out of the bathroom a few seconds later, his pants fastened and his phone in his hand. He looked up at her. Her ebullient bubble popped, just like that. There was something in his expression—

“I’m really sorry, but can I take a rain check on dinner?” he asked.

“Of course. Is everything all right?”

He glanced down at his phone, appearing both distracted and vaguely stunned. “I’m fine. It’s my brother,” he said.

“What about him?” Eleanor asked, holding the afghan around her breasts and walking toward him.

“That’s just it, I don’t know. I knew something was bugging him at Mom and Dad’s over Thanksgiving, but he wouldn’t open up about it. But he texted that he’s just a few miles outside of Chicago and needs to talk to me. He asked if we could meet over at my place.”

“Do you think it’s something serious?” Eleanor asked quietly.

Trey shook his head and slid his phone into his back pocket. He began buttoning up his shirt. She watched his fleet fingers covering up his cut, powerful torso with a sinking feeling. That simple action on his part, more than his words, brought it home to her that he was really leaving.

“I’m guessing it is serious,” he stated dryly.

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Because even though my brother and I are close, he’s never actually been to my place. I’m talking never once, not since I’ve been an adult. He’s ten years older than me. I came a lot later than him and my sister, Kacy. Kevin’s a pilot. When he has a layover in Chicago, or when I’m in New York, we meet up at a restaurant or bar if we’re both free. But he’s been flying to Europe for the past few years, so I’ve seen him less and less. Usually, we just see each other on holidays at Mom and Dad’s. He’s a pretty independent guy. Some people would call him a loner.” Trey paused, frowning. “He’s certainly never driven to Chicago just to talk to me.”

His flashing glance landed on her standing there clutching the heavy afghan above her breasts. Something darkened his features. He took two long strides over to her and delved his fingers into her hair. His head dipped. He cut off her soft gasp with his mouth.

His kiss told her he regretted having to leave. Or at least that was her impression when he stood close and his taste and scent filled her.

When Trey was next to you, and his mouth was moving on yours, there wasn’t much room for doubt.

Once he was gone . . .

Well, that was a different story altogether.

TWELVE

Kevin Riordan carried his forty-three years extremely well. Most people guessed he and Trey were five years apart instead of almost eleven. Both of the Riordan boys had gotten their father’s height and their mother’s blue eyes, but Kevin was darker than Trey.

He’d always looked up to Kevin. As a kid, he’d worshipped him like a hero. As he’d gotten older, he’d grown to genuinely respect his brother’s skill and courage as a Navy pilot, his easy confidence with other men—who also seemed to immediately admire him—and his even easier confidence with women, who typically adored him.

As Trey entered his living room that night, however, and saw the back of Kevin’s shadowed form staring broodingly down onto Lake Shore Drive, the unusual thought struck him for the first time in his life that Kevin Riordan wasn’t just a loner. He was lonely.

He cleared this throat and his brother turned. Trey held out the glass of bourbon Kevin had requested.

“Thanks,” Kevin rasped, immediately taking a sip. He closed his eyes and sighed. “God, that’s good. Heaven compared to that crap Mom keeps at the farm.”

Trey chuckled and sat down on the couch, placing his glass of ice water on the coffee table.