The Braddock Boys: Travis. Kimberly Raye

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      Green eyes so much like his own stared back at him. “Hello to you, too.”

      The green shifted and Brent’s gaze fired a bright, vivid red. “If you’re here to start trouble, you can forget it. I’m not letting you screw this up for Cody. No arguing tonight.” The red flickered and anger sizzled in the air surrounding them. “I mean it.”

      “Easy.” Travis held up his hands. “I’m not here to start anything. I just came to talk.”

      “You really expect me to believe that?”

      He didn’t. The last time he’d been face to face with his brothers, he’d blamed them for the massacre that had taken their family.

      But he’d been wrong.

      Travis eyed his brother. “Where’s Rose?”

      Silence stretched between them for a long moment before Brent relaxed his grip just a little. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “That I don’t know.”

      “You’re lying.”

      “Believe what you want.” He shrugged. “I don’t know jack about her. That’s Cody’s bomb to drop and he’ll drop it when he’s good and ready. And I can promise you it’s not right now. We’re in the middle of pictures, for Christ’s sake.” Agitation washed over him as the photographer’s voice echoed in the distance. His grip loosened. “Listen, if you want to talk, we’ll talk. But later.”

      He wanted to argue, but then Brent disappeared as quickly as he’d first appeared, leaving Travis no choice but to bide his time until the photographer finished.

      He straightened his shirt and started back around the barn. His attention shifted to the huge white tent that towered in the far distance before he chanced a glance at the spot where he’d last seen Holly Simms talking on her headset. She was nowhere in sight and damned if that didn’t bother him. Not that he expected her to hang around, waiting for him. She undoubtedly thought he’d ditched her on purpose.

      A damned fine idea.

      That’s what his head told him. There were too many women to choose from for him to set his sights on one who obviously didn’t have the time to get up close and personal. She was the wedding planner after all, and busy as all get out. He needed a guest to kill some time with. Or a bridesmaid. Someone who wouldn’t be missed for a few minutes.

      Someone who would actually respond when he looked deep into her eyes and willed her to get naked.

      The thought conjured a vision of long blond hair trailing down his bare chest. Feathering over his abs. Brushing his thighs. Swirling around his cock.

      His stomach hollowed out and his mouth went dry. He picked up his stride, his boots kicking up dust as he headed for the tent and the bar that had been set up along one length. Sliding onto a bar stool, he ordered a beer and took a long swig. The golden liquid went down smooth, but it didn’t quench the thirst that yawned in the pit of his stomach.

      The tent filled up quickly. The sound of laughter echoed around him. Glasses clinked as the bartenders shifted into action. The scent of vanilla candles wafted through the air, blending with the sugary-sweet smell of the stacked wedding cake that sat center stage on a nearby table.

      Travis tried to focus on the women surrounding him. A tall brunette with a purple dress. A shapely redhead wearing a pink suit. A blonde in a hot, tight, red number with lips to match. There were plenty. All his for the taking.

      All except for Holly Simms.

      The thought struck and he signaled for another beer. She was just one woman, he reminded himself. A damned infuriating one at that since she didn’t seem susceptible to his vamp charisma. No falling into his arms or rubbing her soft curves up against him. Nothing. Just that crazy disbelief.

      As if his thoughts had conjured her, she rushed around the bandstand toward the pale looking man who’d just taken his place behind a large mixing board. Static cracked open the steady chatter of guests and in a split-second, a slow, twangy Jason Aldean song spilled from the speakers.

      Jason sang about big green tractors and taking a ride, and relief seeped into Holly’s expression. She actually smiled and his chest hitched. It was the damndest thing, considering his response was always centered below the belt when it came to women.

      He took a swig of his drink and watched as she touched her headset and informed the person on the other end that the music was on and the dancing could commence. Disaster averted. Or so she thought until she got the news that the champagne was missing. Her smile faded in the blink of an eye and he had the sudden insane urge to cross the distance between them, haul her into his arms and do any and everything to bring the smile back to her beautiful face.

      Her tight skirt pushed and pulled, hugging her shapely ass as she made a bee-line for the house. His groin tightened, throbbing to the point that a growl worked its way up his throat.

      She was different, all right.

      But not that different.

      While he hadn’t wowed her with his vampness, he’d still read every thought that had flashed through her pretty blond head. He knew she was sexually frustrated and that she had a thing for cowboys, that she’d been hurt by one. She’d sworn off love and relationships, and had resigned herself to brief, meaningless, one-night stands.

      Exactly what he needed at the moment.

      Not an entire night, mind you. In the deprived state he was in, a good fifteen minutes would do him just fine. He was already this close to the edge. Pain twisted at his gut. His hands trembled. His throat tightened. His fangs tingled.

      Travis downed the last of his drink, set the glass on the bar and went after Holly Simms.

      “I heard the words echo inCAN’T BELIEVE they misplaced the Cristal,” she murmured into her headset as she entered the house through the back kitchen door and glanced frantically around the large room. Platters of food covered every available granite countertop. Boxes sat stacked against the walls and in front of the custom cherry cabinets, but not one had the familiar name she was looking for. “How do you lose ten cases of ultra expensive champagne?”

      “I love Cristal,” Evan declared. “Bob ordered it on our first date. After dinner, we went up to Lucky’s Point and watched the sun set. Say, maybe someone snuck off with the champagne because he wants to propose to his girlfriend. Why, they could be sitting on the tailgate of a pickup truck as we speak, bottles in hand, watching the stars dance across the sky.”

      “Are you on medication?”

      “It’s called love, dearest. In case you’ve forgotten.”

      If only.

      But she remembered all too clearly the pounding heart, the rush of excitement and the pie-in-the-sky notions—

      “The bartender said all ten cases were supposed to be delivered to the bar,” Evan cut in, effectively killing her spiral down memory lane. Thankfully. “I called the delivery service and they said someone in the kitchen signed for it.”

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