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nd stroking his male ego.
The thought made her sick, but she’d live with it. For Shelly. As long as one of his slutty little mistresses didn’t go public. Nicole had never before been concerned, not really, but she was worried about this Kim. It took nerve—hell, it took brass balls—to call up Jason Danvers’s wife and start issuing orders.
Things had changed since Adria Nash had waltzed into town. And not for the better.
She heard a pounding on the front door and her heart leaped to her throat. Now what? For a foolish split second her fears took hold and she thought Kim had become desperate enough to show up here. Jason probably had given her the code to the gate and the little slut had just enough nerve to confront her lover and his wife.
Shelly! Her thoughts flew to her daughter. She couldn’t let Shelly meet the woman! Grabbing the satin robe left at the foot of her bed, she slid her arms through the sleeves and hurried down the hall, looping the belt; damned if that little tramp would meet her daughter. Jason was two steps in front of her and he opened the door, letting in the slice of wintry cold wind that preceded his brother.
Zachary, in jeans and a denim jacket, looked out of place in the house where he’d grown up. He was tense and the restless energy that Nicole had come to associate with him was evident in the way he paced the room, the manner in which his eyes took in everything at once, the feel of electricity that he generated. His hair was a little too long, uncombed, and he looked as if he could use a shave—like he’d just come in off the range. He was so innately sexy that Nicole tried to avoid looking in his eyes for fear she would see the promise of sweet seduction lingering in those hot gray orbs.
She offered him a chair, but he shook his head and stared at his brother. “I want Sweeny’s number.”
“I was just on my way out—” Jason said.
“Now?”
“Late meeting.”
Zach didn’t press it, as if what Jason did with his own time was his business. “Fine. Go out Just give me the number.”
“Sweeny’s out of town.” Now it was Jason’s turn to be nervous.
“Then tell me where he can be reached.” There was a desperate edge to Zach’s voice, one that dared to be defied.
“He’s in and out—you’ll never catch up with him,” Jason said, and his voice sounded strangled. Out of control. All that practiced courtroom poker face shot to hell. He was lying again, Nicole surmised. And the untruths seemed to come harder when they were told to his steel-jawed brother. Would this chain of deception never end?
Zach’s eyes grew dark. “Give me the number, Jason, or place the damned call. I want to talk to him.”
Jason backed off. “You look like you could use a drink. I’ve got a bottle of—”
“I don’t need a drink,” Zach snapped. “Just give me the number.”
Jason eyed his brother and finally relented. “All right. Come on. In the den.” He checked his watch. “You know it’s nearly two o’clock in Memphis.”
“Good. He should be in.”
“Sweeny could be asleep.”
“Then it’s time to wake up,” Zach said, unable to tamp down the raw, naked tautness that had been with him ever since he’d kissed Adria and held her in his arms. He was frightened for her. Afraid that whoever was stalking her would up the ante. But he couldn’t confide in his family. Not when one of them could be the sicko. And there was the other problem of his feelings for Adria. Her lips had offered such sweet promise, her head thrown back in absolute abandon, her breasts straining against that little scrap of a bra. He’d come close to making love to her, so damned close, and it had been all he could do to break it off. She’d been willing and soft, her body yielding to his. He’d argued with himself as he’d kissed her, sworn at himself when he touched her breasts, and nearly lost all reason as she’d cradled his head to her nipple. He’d never been so hard in his life. Never wanted anything more. Never been so repulsed by his own desires.
Just thinking of it now caused the beginning of an erection to swell in his jeans. He stuffed one hand into a front pocket as Jason showed him the numbers scratched on a pad across the desk. Cradling the receiver with his shoulder, Zach punched out the numbers and waited impatiently, tapping the fingers of his free hand on the corner of the desk. “Come on, come on,” he muttered as Jason closed the door to the den.
Sweeny’s groggy voice answered on the seventh ring. “Yeah.”
“This is Zachary Danvers.”
“Jesus, do you know what time it is?”
“What’ve you found out?”
“I was gonna call Jason in the morning.”
Zach glanced at the clock. “You’re in luck. It is morning and Jason’s right here.”
“You’re a fucking prick, Danvers.” The voice cleared and he heard the sound of a lighter clicking. “Okay, it’s not much, but a start.” Zach’s stomach twisted. If Sweeny confirmed the fact that Adria was a fraud, then she was little more than a cheap hustler—a gold digger. But if he’d discovered she was London…hell, that would be worse because he’d be related to her. His heart drummed frantically in his chest. Either way, he was bound to lose. “It’s kind of been like lookin’ for a needle in a haystack,” Sweeny was saying, “or trying to find that damned guy in the puzzle, you know what I’m talking about? The guy in the red stripes? Where’s Whosit?”
“Waldo,” Zach said tersely.
