A Christmas Promise (The Buchanan Brothers 9)

Vince smiled and tapped his pen against his desk. “Right. Actually, I do have a favor to ask…”

“The last favor about did me in,” Laird said. “What is this favor?”

“Emma has found this new little pet project, a non-profit called Gage’s Watch, that she has organized a fundraiser for and she’s adamant that I fill the room with donors with fat pocketbooks. Naturally, I thought of you.”

“Philanthropy…never been my strong suit,” Laird said, shrugging. “Please give your darling wife my regrets. I’m sure I’ll be balls deep inside a beautiful woman that night.”

“I haven’t given you the date.”

“Exactly.”

Vince laughed, reminding Laird of old times until he said, “You are going and here’s why…Emma is going to bring Lana and Lana needs a date.”

Laird’s gaze narrowed. “No.” He cleared his throat. “No, let me amend that to, hell no. I’m done playing nursemaid.”

“You would be doing me a huge favor.”

“I’ve done enough favors for you.”

Vince sighed. “I hate to have to do this but you’ve forced my hand, old friend.” He pulled a few photos from his desk drawer and tossed them to the desktop. “Remember this?”

Intrigued, Laird scooped up a photo and then once he realized what he was looking at, he stared at his old friend. “Are you kidding me? Where did you get these?”

“Doesn’t matter. Suffice to say, I have them and I’m ready to use them. I’m sure your father would enjoy these. Maybe he’d have them blown up and plastered on his office wall.”

“Fuck you,” he muttered, glancing away as he tossed the photo back. “You’re a dick. I can’t believe you would do this to me.”

“I’m a Buchanan…I would do anything to get my way.”

“You’re going to burn in hell, you know that right?”

“Quite possibly but in the meantime, may I count you in?”

Laird was tempted to call Vince’s bluff but those pictures…hell, his old man was always looking for a reason to write him off completely and those pictures would certainly give him a hard shove in that direction. And although he had money of his own, thanks to his grandmother’s money, it wasn’t entirely enough to fund his lifestyle. “What the hell, maybe my father will be impressed that I’m wasting my money on charity rather than whores and casinos. Count me in, you fucking bastard.”

“Excellent,” Vince said, smiling as he gathered the photos. “And remember to show her a good time. From what Emma has said, she’s been a bit depressed lately. Just don’t sleep with her,” he warned.

“You know how to suck the fun out of everything,” Laird said sighing. “But you needn’t worry. Lana isn’t my type. Too much desperate need and want in that pretty package, if you know what I mean.”

Vince handed Laird the gilded invitation and grinned. “See you there.”

Laird gave his best friend the bird and walked out.

Holy fuck. Maybe his old man had been right…those Buchanans were a terrible influence.

***

“You did what?” Emma stared at her husband, Vince, dumbfounded and irritated at the same time. “Why would you ask Laird, of all people, to be Lana’s date? He’s a terrible choice. When I asked you to find someone, I was thinking someone along the lines of a successful doctor or dentist, not some lazy, womanizing playboy whom you used to run around with when you were still a man-whore.”

“Harsh,” Vince said, trying to stay focused but his gaze was riveted by his wife’s tits. Were they bigger? He itched to put his hands on those beautiful globes as a test but the look Emma was sending him warned him off the attempt. “Listen, Laird may be all those things — at times — but he wasn’t that way with Lana when I asked him to look out for her while you were recuperating, right? I think he’s different around her. Honestly, maybe she’s good for him.”

Emma’s expression screwed into a protective frown. “My sister is not going to be your friend’s version of emotional duct tape. She’s in no shape to go fixing someone else when she’s still working on herself. Damn it, Vince…I was really counting on you to find a real date for her.”

The distress in Emma’s voice snapped him out of his preoccupation with her breasts and he said, “I promise Laird will be a perfect gentlemen.”

“Yeah? And how can you promise that?”

“Easy. I have some photos he doesn’t want his father to see and I told him that if he doesn’t do this for me, I would personally deliver the incriminating pictures straight to his dad.”

“Vince, that’s blackmail.”

“Friendly persuasion,” he disagreed, climbing onto the bed, his attention returning to her boobs. “You seem different. Did you do something to your hair?”

She blinked and then opened her mouth to answer but then thought better of it, saying, “Don’t change the subject. I don’t want my sister hurt by one of your less-than-honorable friends.”

“I would never let Laird hurt your sister,” he promised, plucking at the tiny shoulder straps on his wife’s nightie, baring her breasts to his gaze. “Ahhh, my favorite view.”

“Vince,” Emma said, dissolving into reluctant laughter as he nuzzled her neck and his hand found her right breast. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”

“I thought we were done,” he said, moving to suckle her nipple, loving the way her breath caught and tiny mewling noises escaped her parted lips. “Besides, isn’t this far more entertaining than discussing who your sister should or shouldn’t be spending time with? Last I checked…she was a grown woman…much like you, my sweet wife.”

“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly but even as she clutched him to her breast, she managed to add, “As bad as things were for me, they were ten times worse for Lana and she refuses to get help for what happened to her. V-Vince, ahhh, no, wait, I want your a-assurances — Oh, God, yes, right there — that you’re not going to l-let Laird hurt her.”

That stopped Vince and he lifted his head to meet his wife’s worried gaze. “I promise you that Laird will not hurt Lana. Now, will you stop worrying for ten minutes so I can make you come?”

Emma’s gaze darkened as a slow smile curved her lips. “Ten minutes? Someone is feeling confident.”

“Sweetheart, you know I could have you shaking and crying out in less than five but you know my competitive spirit won’t allow that challenge to go unanswered so prepare yourself, wif

e.”

Emma giggled but the mischievous glint in her eye made him want to devour her. She was the cutest little wifey on the planet and he was a lucky son-of-a-bitch.

However, long after he’d made good on his promise and Emma was sacked out, her little mouth open slightly as she dozed, he wondered if perhaps he’d been too cavalier about Laird being around Lana. His best friend had plenty of skeletons dancing in his closet and his appetite for perversion had always matched his own. But people could change, right? He’d certainly changed for Emma, though he never could’ve seen that coming. Maybe all Laird needed was a good woman…but was Lana that woman? And if she wasn’t…were things about to get epically fucked up?

He stared at the darkened ceiling, listening to his wife’s slow, deep breathing and he realized he needed to stop messing around and find a buyer for Malvagio. It was time to cut those ties. More than time. They didn’t need the income — hell, they’d all gone into that business venture expecting to lose money so when it’d started turning a profit, they’d all been shocked — and the more he thought about it, the more he knew he was selfish to hold onto something that not only been a source of pain for his wife and her sister, but also represented a time in his life when he was a royal asshole who reveled in that status.

Good God, Laird was right — he was whipped.

But happily so.

-3-

Lana stared at her sister, fighting a wave of panic. “What are you talking about? I don’t want a date. You talked me into this fundraiser without saying anything about needing a date.”

Emma rushed to smooth things over. “It’s no big deal but I really wanted you to get out of the house and I knew that if I told you about this really great nonprofit that works to help foster kids, you would love being a part of it and I just happened to have two extra tickets. Plus, I have it on good authority that your date has deep enough pockets to make a sizable donation, which I thought you would appreciate. It’s not as if I’m expecting you to actually date this person. He’s just…arm candy with a fat checkbook. Think of it that way.”