Broken Heart. Laura Browning

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      She smiled when he looked a bit confused. She took his case and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips. “Welcome home, darling. Dinner is almost ready. Why don’t I get you a drink, and you can change into something more comfortable.”

      “What’s all this?” He held her away from him for a moment and smiled. “Mind you, I’m not complaining.”

      “We have the house to ourselves for the evening, so…” She smiled with what she hoped was a seductive look. Shit. She’d never been any good at this.

      Jace pulled her into his arms again. “So you’re seducing me?”

      She leaned her cheek against his chest. “Is it working?”

      “Yes. Pour me a scotch. I’ll get a shower and be right back.”

      Stacey was elated. Maybe now they could get things going so she would finally feel like she had a marriage. Although they had been man and wife longer than either of her brothers had been with their spouses, Stacey often felt clueless when it came to her marriage, particularly whenever she and Jace were around the rest of the family. She had done everything her parents had asked, so why was this still so difficult?

      But now things were changing, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, Justin Worthington had been a big help. She would have to find some way to say thank you. She reiterated that thought when Jace entered the living room clad only in a pair of sleep pants hanging low on his hips. She couldn’t believe how receptive he was being to her overtures, so different from the times early on in their marriage when she had tried something similar. It was as if he’d become a whole new man ever since Brandon’s wedding. Stacey could only thank her lucky stars.

      Dinner went splendidly, Jace even feeding her bites of dessert and leaning in for kisses in between. When they left the table, he grabbed her hand as she headed for the living room.

      “Let’s go upstairs, darling,” he murmured.

      Yesss! Stacey returned his grip with a soft squeeze.

      * * * *

      Mason had taken clients to dinner. After dropping the couple at their hotel, he had decided to stop at a bar not far from his penthouse on the way home. Not in the mood for company, he’d found a quiet corner in the back where he could observe people going in and out. It was right after ten when he saw Justin Worthington walk in–alone. He had seen the man several times during the week, each time either in the company of Jason Winchester or Stacey. Did this mean Stacey and her husband were actually spending time together?

      Mason swirled the bourbon in his glass, his brows drawing together as he tried to force away the image of the two of them. Did she do the same things with Winchester she had done with him? He tossed the bourbon back, nearly choking. Imagining her with her long legs wrapped around her husband and her slender hips undulating against his nearly made Mason crush the glass.

      “Would you care for another, sir?”

      He wiped the frown from his face. The waitress had done nothing wrong. “Yes, thanks.”

      He stared at Worthington. The man was engaged in conversation with another man at the bar. There was something in his manner that made Mason feel ill at ease. It was nothing he could put a name to, which bothered him even more. As he continued to watch the blond, it dawned on him that he resembled Stacey in a lot of ways. Both long-legged and lean, they also shared the same shade of hair. While Worthington’s eyes were green instead of gold, they also had the same angular features.

      Whatever.

      Mason shivered as he sipped the new bourbon the waitress had dropped at his table. A life on the streets followed by four years of exposure to the opposite end of the spectrum as a scholarship student at Harvard had left him with a very cynical view of society. There were dregs rich and poor, and their economic status had very little to do with the content of their character, to steal a line from a great American. Justin Worthington might not be the dregs, but he and Jace Winchester were hiding who and what they were. He wasn’t sure yet why, but he had a very strong suspicion–one making him half sick. When Worthington left a half-hour later, Mason slapped a couple bills on the table and followed him. From the shadows outside the Winchester brownstone, Mason watched the other man quietly let himself inside. Mason sighed heavily.

      Maybe he was being paranoid. Hell, maybe he was turning into some kind of sick Stacey stalker because he sure as shit couldn’t get her out of his head. And now he had to wonder exactly what Justin Worthington was doing staying there.

      * * * *

      Stacey sat in the hot tub on the back deck, determined to keep the mood going. Jace had made love to her as usual. He had seemed to get satisfaction from their coupling, but she couldn’t say the same. Not that he would know. Stacey had gotten very good at making him think she was climaxing even while her mind detached from what was going on. He had his arm around her shoulders now, so Stacey snuggled a bit closer to his side. He rubbed her shoulder.

      “Would you like a drink, darling?”

      “Yes,” she murmured, “that would be nice.” He rose from the hot tub, not bothering to wrap a towel around his slender hips. He had a pleasing build, lean, not muscular like Mason, but still handsome.

      Stop. Stacey didn’t want to think about Mason right now, but she realized every time her husband made love to her, she fantasized, remembering what it had been like with Mason. It was the only way she could make her “climaxes” realistic. With a sigh, she stared off into the darkness. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be thinking about another man, a man she hadn’t been with for nearly two years. There must be something wrong with her. Jace certainly seemed to find their married life satisfying, so what was her problem?

      Maybe she should consider seeing a therapist. Her mind cringed from the very idea. A Barlow-Barrett always keeps her private life private. Somehow, Stacey doubted seeing a shrink went along with that particular maxim from her mother.

      She looked over at the French doors leading to the deck as she heard Jace return, then quickly sank lower in the hot tub, her eyes widening in shock. Behind her nude husband was Justin Worthington with only a towel tucked around his hips. Stacey’s glance darted from Justin back to Jace. She couldn’t very well ask what the hell was going on.

      “Justin just got home, darling,” Jace told her with a smile. “I knew you wouldn’t mind him joining us. After all, we’re all friends, all adults.” There was an underlying tone telling her more clearly than words she was not to contradict him. And of course, how could she anyway? Doing so would create a scene.

      Stacey swallowed and tried to smile. She wasn’t a prude by any means, and the bubbles hid a lot. She did, after all, owe Justin for his help. “Of course I don’t mind.” She hoped she didn’t sound as uncertain as she felt. “Please, join us.”

      Justin eased in on her other side before stripping the towel from himself and letting it slap onto the deck. Now he was naked too. With her. With her husband on the opposite side–and her in the middle. Stacey swallowed, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable and not liking the situation Jace had forced on her.

      “Thank you, Stacey,” Justin murmured. “Did you have a nice evening?”

       Chapter 3

      “Yes. Thanks.” Justin’s question served as a reminder, СКАЧАТЬ