Pierre handed her a glass of wine. “Louis and I haven’t come to a consensus on that yet.”
Or they didn’t plan to stay long.
Louis extricated himself from the attentions of the lawyer and headed her way, snatching up a tray with dip, crisps, olives, figs and roasted walnuts.
“Salut, Melinda. You came.” He held the tray out to her. “You must try my roasted nuts. I added a little extra spice. Just for you. You like it spicy, no?”
The challenge in his eyes was too much to resist. She took a couple of walnuts and slipped one in her mouth, making a show of biting down on it. Louis’ nostrils flared, Pierre edged a little closer.
Flavor burst on her tongue.Oh, my God.It was amazing. The crunch of the walnut, the sweetness of the honey, and the bite of heat from the chili. Melinda popped another one into her mouth, forgetting herself for a moment, closing her eyes and letting out a little moan.
“Is good, no?”
Melinda snapped her eyes open to Louis’ intense focus on her mouth. She took a sip of wine, hiding her flush and nodded. “Yes. They’re good.”
Louis beamed. “I knew you would like my nuts.” He nudged his brother. “She likes my nuts, Pierre.”
She tossed a few more into her mouth. This time, she kept her eyes open, and it was the fierce intensity, the held breaths of both twins that had her wanting to moan. She swallowed and licked her lips. They tracked the motion.
“Louis, Pierre.” Tom from the floor below broke their little bubble. “Please tell me you’re going to do something with this apartment. Change the drapes, maybe burn that sofa. I know of a good designer, if you’re interested.”
Melinda seized the opportunity to move away, mingling with the other guests. She circled, smiling and chatting, scoping out the room. No laptops, no phones. Nothing. Not a single personal item, nor anything that might hint at what they did for work. What Wolf Enterprises specialized in. The whole time, the burn of twin gazes followed her.
She ducked into the kitchen. A quick glance told her she wouldn’t find what she was searching for here. When she returned to the living area, both Louis and Pierre were watching, waiting for her. Because they were hoping for something from her later, or because they were suspicious?
Melinda mingled, spending more time on small talk with her neighbors than she had in all the years she’d lived in her building. After Joe from across the hall had regaled her with tales of his successes in the advertising world for far too long, Melinda set her glass down on the coffee table, made her excuses and headed down the hall to the bathroom. In case anyone—Pierre or Louis specifically—happened to be watching, she did use the bathroom. She checked the vanity cupboard, not expecting to find anything out of the ordinary. Rolls of toilet paper, some shaving gear, a tube of toothpaste and toothbrushes—one neat and trim, the other shaggy. Pierre and Louis. Twins they may be, but their personalities shone through.
She eased open the door and peeked out. Down the corridor, in the living area, people chatted. Louis had his back to her, deep in animated conversation with Mr. Patel. His hands moved as he talked, his whole body invested, as boisterous as his personality. Pierre stood with a guy from the floor above, one hand tucked inhis pocket, the other cradling a glass of red wine, a brief nod of agreement at something the guy said.
With light steps, Melinda ducked out of the bathroom and into the second bedroom. She sucked in the hint of aftershave, and something else, something musky but not unpleasant. It had her nipples pebbling and her panties dampening. As her eyes adjusted to the meager light of the numerals on an old alarm clock, she could make out the unmade bed still bearing the imprint of a large male body, the floral duvet thrust back. Louis? An image of him naked, sheets twisted about his calves, his hand wrapped around his cock, flashed into her mind. Heat suffused her face.
She should turn around. Retreat to the safety of the living room.
No. These men are up to something, and I need to know what it is.
She slammed a lid on her imagination and her libido, pulled out her phone, switched on the flashlight and turned to the open closet.
An overnight bag sat in the bottom, open, clothes spewing out. She riffled through it, her hand lingering on a pair of soft black boxer briefs. Louis would fill these out nicely. She thrust them aside and rooted through the rest of the clothes, mostly black. What was it with these men and black? Was it some kind of uniform? A reflection of their work? Black Ops? She checked the pockets of the bag. Nothing. She ran her hands along the top shelf of the closet. No laptop.
Putting everything back as she’d found it, she abandoned the closet and checked the rest of the room. Nothing. She peered out into the hallway. No one was looking her way. She slipped into the other bedroom, the main bedroom. Oh, this one definitely belonged to Pierre. The bed was made, the closet was empty except for a neatly stored overnight bag, and his clothes—againalmost all black—he’d folded neatly in the dresser. She sucked in a breath. No boxer briefs. No underwear of any kind. The man went commando. All buttoned up on the outside, free underneath. She pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants.
Commandoandgray sweatpants.
She slammed the drawer shut. For goodness’ sake, she was almost panting.
Melinda checked the remaining drawers. No sign of a laptop or a phone. She checked under the bed, under the pillows, under the mattress, careful to smooth out the duvet. Nothing in the drawers of the bedside tables. It stood to reason they would have their phones on them, but they’d both arrived with laptop bags, so where was their tech? And why were they hiding it?
“Melinda?”
Shit.
She shoved her phone back in her purse and slowly turned around. Pierre leaned against the door frame, silhouetted by the light in the hall. By his side, Louis.
Chapter Seven
Pierre sucked in a breath. She was inhisroom, standing beforehisbed, and didn’t that make his cock hard as fuck. He’d been borderline hard from the moment he’d opened the door to her. Her V-neck sweater revealing the gentle swell of her breasts. The sway of her slender hips in her jeans. The gloss of her lips an invitation to taste. That little moan when she’d eaten Louis’ honey roasted chili walnuts.
He’d spent his nights with his whole body focused on her, imagining her staring at her screens as she swam in cyberspace trying to pin them down. A gentle touch of code here, a poke there. She was good, but he and Louis were better, and they’d fed her just enough to whet her appetite. Enough to have her take up their invitation. And now here she was, so close to his bed that his brain struggled to think of anything else but her in it, naked, sandwiched between the two of them.
