So busted. Reagan winced, glancing toward the porch where Ezekiel leaned a shoulder against one of the columns. Unless he lounged around the house in business clothes, he must’ve left the office to meet her here. A white dress shirt lovingly slid over his broad shoulders, muscular chest and flat abdomen, while dark gray slacks emphasized his trim waist and long, powerful legs.
“You might,” she said, heading toward him but jerking her all-too-fascinated gaze away to give the Jaguar one last covetous glance. “V8 engine?”
He nodded. “And supercharged.” She groaned, and he broke out into a wide grin. “I didn’t know you were into cars,” he remarked, straightening as she approached.
Reagan climbed the stairs to the porch, shrugging a shoulder. “My brother’s fault. He started my obsession by sharing his Hot Wheels with me when we were kids, and it’s been full-blown since then. We make at least two car shows a year together.”
“What else are you hiding from me, Reagan?” Ezekiel murmured, those mesmerizing green eyes scanning her face.
Heat bloomed in her chest, searing a path up her throat, and dammit, into her face. Ducking her head to hide the telltale reaction to his incisive perusal, she huffed out a small laugh. “Hiding? Please. Nothing that dramatic. I’m an open book.”
He didn’t reply, and unable to help herself, she lifted her head. Only to be ensnared by his gaze. Her breath stuttered, and for a slice of time, they stood there on the edge of his porch, staring. Drowning. At least on her part.
God. Did the man have to be so damn hot?
Objectively, she understood why so many women in Royal competed to have him in their arms, their beds. Even if it were just for hours. Oh yes, his reputation as a serial one-night monogamist was well-known. Was the rumor about him never actually sleeping with a woman true as well? Part of her wanted to know.
And the other?
Well, the other would rather not picture him tangled, sweaty and naked with another woman, period. Why just the thought had her stomach twisting, she’d rather not examine.
“C’mon in,” he invited, turning and opening the screen door for her to enter his home.
Nodding, she slipped past him and stepped into the guesthouse he and his brother shared. Guesthouse. That brought an image of a garage apartment. Not this place. A towering two-story home with a tiled roof, wraparound porch, airy rooms with high ceilings and a rustic feel that managed to be welcoming, relaxing and expensive—it provided more than enough room for two bachelors.
It wasn’t the first time she’d walked the wood fl
oors here. After Luke and Ezekiel’s parents died, they’d moved here, and she’d visited with Harley. But then, she hadn’t been personally invited by Ezekiel. And they’d never been alone.
Like now.
“I have to admit, I’ve been dying to find out what all the cloak-and-dagger mystery is about,” she teased as he closed the front door behind them. “I’ve narrowed it down to plans for world domination or spoilers for the next superhero movie. Either way, I’m in.”
A smile flashed across his face, elevating him from beautiful to breathtaking. That’s it, she grumbled to herself, following him into the living room. She was only looking at his neck from now on. That face elicited silly and unrealistic thoughts. Like what would that lush, sensual mouth feel like against hers? Did he kiss a woman as if she were a sweet to be savored? Or a full-course meal to be devoured?
God, she had to stop this. The man might as well be her big brother. No, scratch that. There were moral and legal rules against lusting after your brother like she did Ezekiel. Still, it was all shades of inappropriate and wrong. Mainly because while she didn’t see him as a sibling, he definitely viewed her as one.
The reminder snuffed out the embers of desire like a dousing of frigid water.
Ezekiel snorted, gesturing toward the couch. “As if I would ever share spoilers. Now world domination...” He shrugged a shoulder. “I can be persuaded.”
“I’m not even touching that,” she drawled. “But your questionable values don’t deter my curiosity one bit.” She lowered to one end of the sofa. “So dish.”
Rather than taking a chair or joining her on the couch, Ezekiel sat on the mahogany coffee table in front of her. His white dress shirt stretched across the width of his broad shoulders as he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his muscular thighs. All the teasing light dimmed in his eyes as he met hers.
Unease slid inside her, setting beneath her breastbone. Unease and a niggling worry.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered. “What’s happened?”
Harley? Her parents? Something else with Wingate Enterprises? She, like everyone else in Royal—hell, the nation—had heard of the trouble at their jet manufacturing plant. Unlike the gossip swirling around the Wingates proclaimed, she didn’t believe the allegations of corruption. They didn’t coincide with the people she’d known for years. And she absolutely didn’t believe that Ezekiel would’ve gone along with something so nefarious. They might not have been close, but the boy and man she’d called a friend had a core of integrity and honesty in him that wouldn’t have abided any fraudulence or deception. Especially any that could potentially cost people their lives.
“Reagan,” he said, pausing for a long moment. A moment during which she braced herself. “Marry me.”
The breath she’d been holding whooshed out of her. She blinked. Blinked again. Surely, he... No, he couldn’t have possibly...
“E-excuse me?” she stuttered, shock slowing her mind and tongue.
“Marry me,” he repeated, his jade gaze steady, his expression solemn. Determined. “Be my wife.”