Romeo: A Payne Brothers Romance Read online

  “Humping the butter statue is a better option,” I said. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

  Quint laughed. “How better to join our families in harmony than by using a baby to blend the family lines. If we had a baby, who could be mad?”

  “Well, you’d be utterly insane. Do you really think my brothers would let you live if I came home pregnant?”

  “I can handle Duke and Marquis.”

  He was a tough guy, but I knew someone scarier than even my brothers.

  “And what about Grandma?” I asked. “Could you tell the Widow Barlow that you knocked up her favorite granddaughter?”

  Quint finally saw reason. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m brave, but I don’t have the balls it takes to tackle Agatha Barlow. Maybe I don’t impregnate you.”

  “Glad were on the same page.”

  “We’ll only fool around then.”

  He reached for my hand. I batted him away.

  “Is that your idea of foreplay?” I asked.

  He smirked. “Hard to get frisky with clothes on.”

  “You know, we could just talk,” I said. “Like normal, civilized friends. Get to know each other. Share our likes and dislikes. Favorite foods, hopes, dreams.”

  “You already know the answer to those questions.”

  “I do?”

  Quint seemed obscenely proud of himself. “Sure, you do. Every answer is the same. Pussy.”

  It was times like this I wondered what the hell I had done to my heart for it to inflict this man upon me as my one and only crush.

  “What about dislikes?” I asked.

  “I dislike not partaking in pussy.” He winked. “Though I’ve yet to try some yum yum.”

  I feared for the human race.

  “It’s mind-boggling to me that any woman actually gets in bed with you,” I said.

  “Usually I don’t have to try this hard.” He pointed to his dimples. “My natural charisma does all the work.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s the alcohol doing most of the heavy lifting.”

  “Laugh it up. But I’m dying here. This is the longest I’ve gone without even a bit of attention.”

  “You get plenty of attention. You just don’t know what to do with it if you’re still clothed.”

  I didn’t know why I was trying. Yes, Quint was a great guy. Sure, he was funny and charming, charismatic and exciting…

  But he was a player.

  No matter what I did, said, felt, I knew what sort of man he really was.

  I didn’t want to fall for him just to get my heart broken.

  I pretended that I was still teasing. “So, why don’t you go? Find some pretty girl. Get laid.”

  He didn’t move. “Because I’ve already found the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  I hated taking the compliment. “Then don’t be afraid of the work it will take to get somewhere with her.”

  Those green eyes brightened, excited by the prospect of a new game.

  “I think I’m starting to like the chase,” he said.

  I teased him with a smile. “It’s even more fun thinking that it might not happen.”

  “Might.”

  This really wasn’t a conversation meant for the middle of Butterpond, but since we were the only people left, aside from the few members of the historical society testing the structural integrity of Butter-Jedediah with plastic knives, I didn’t see the harm in indulging Quint.

  “You’re making this whole friend thing very complicated,” I said. “I thought you wanted a girl you could trust. Someone you can talk to and work with.”

  “I do.”

  “Well, it’s hard to do those things with all this sexual tension.”

  His grin grew. I should’ve known better than to admit to any sort of unmentionable feelings for him.

  “So, there’s tension?” Quint asked.

  “There’s certainly intention.”

  He flexed the muscles in his arms and chest with a motion that, to the untrained eye, could have been mistaken for a deep stretch.

  “Yep.” The arrogance dripped from his words. “I knew you wanted me.”

  Not that I was ready to admit aloud. “At this point, I want you to leave me alone.”

  “I can see it in your eyes. Read it on your lips.”

  Then I’d make it easier for him. “N-O.”

  His laugh was just the sort of rumbling smoothness that could lead any woman into his bed. “Why not?”

  I wasn’t sure this was the best place for honesty, but at least I had his undivided attention.

  “Because you don’t want me, you only want to sleep with me.” I hesitated, hoping he’d contradict me. “If we have sex, it will ruin this friendship.”

  He disagreed. “Or maybe it will get better.”

  “Keep dreaming.”

  “It might even get stronger.”

  I still didn’t believe him. “Sure.”

  His voice lowered. “It’ll get more intimate.”

  Now we were getting somewhere, but I wasn’t a fool. “And, in the morning, you’ll panic, because you’ve said everything right to get me into bed only to realize that you’re terrified of anything to do with intimacy, commitment, and a potential future.”

  He flinched. “Don’t use the F word. It’s filthy.”

  “I love being right.”

  Quint scowled, pointing at the butter statue. “We can’t even plan a day in advance. Don’t you see how crazy it is when we only think about the future?”

  Not really. What was life without a solid, clearly defined plan?

  “Well, that’s the one thing everyone has in common,” I said. “We're all going to end up there, might as well plan for it.”

  “That’s not true. Who knows what’s going to happen? Maybe you have one too many candy bars and don’t take your insulin. Hard to have a future when you’re six feet under.”

  It was the first time I’d ever heard that edge in his voice. His tone hardened, and I didn’t like the uncertainty shadowing his words.

  “You especially,” he said. “You’re the worst for it.”

  “Me? I don’t even like candy bars.”

  “I’m talking about everything you’re doing to avoid living in the moment. All you want to do is get the hell out of town. You spend all your time thinking about what cities you’re going to visit and what food you should eat and what historical sites you should see. You’re never looking for fun right here in front of you.”

  He was right. He just didn’t know it.

  There was only one reason I came back to Butterpond instead of heading directly to Europe. I’d wanted to have some fun. To see what could happen.

  It was my own fault I only thought about the future. What could be. What I wanted. How he could fit into my life.

  I looked away. “You sound like Grandma.”

  He hesitated. “Your Grandma wants to get you laid?”

  Somewhere, I was sure the Widow Barlow had heard his words and was furiously searching for her cane and an excuse to wield it.

  “My grandmother had the talk with me,” I said.

  “What talk?”

  I shifted uncomfortably, readjusting my glasses. “You know. The talk. The one you don’t want to have with your elderly grandmother.”

  He made a face. “I had really hoped she didn’t know what sex was.”

  “Oh, she knows.” And I was still trying to decipher the moral of her story. “She said she was worried because I was searching outside of Butterpond for something to make me happy.”

  “Really?” Quint slid onto the bench beside me. “Maybe the Widow Barlow and I have more in common than I thought?”

  “You better behave.”

  “What if I told you I could promise you all the happiness you wanted until you get on that plane for Paris?”

  “Let me guess. By sexing me up?”

  “You bet that sweet ass.” He grinned. “I could give you the most amazing night of u
nbelievably filthy sex that you could imagine.”

  That did sound good. Like all the stress and uncertainty could coalesce into one evening of perfectly decadent deviance. A wave of heat rolled over me, and everything naughty and hidden clenched with anticipation.

  I swallowed. “Let’s call that the contingency plan.”

  “How about the conjugal plan?”

  “You’re reaching.”

  “Only because you’re so hard to get.”

  “I consider it a virtue.”

  Quint sighed. “I never found virtue attractive before, but you’re starting to change my mind.”

  Luck hadn’t been on my side today, but I couldn’t help but try to give fate that extra push.

  “Maybe you just need to meet a nice girl?” I smirked. “Like how I need to find a nice guy?”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying since you came back to town. I’ve just got to know one thing.” His smile would sweep me off my feet and tangle my panties between my ankles. “Why won’t you just give in?”

  “You mean, why won’t I have sex with you?”

  He nodded. “I mean, I find it admirable, in that silly, naïve way.”

  I could answer that question easily. “We're supposed to be working together to help our families, not bumping uglies.”

  He wagged a finger. “Now, I know mine ain’t ugly. But if you want to prove yours is as pretty as I think…”

  “You can’t even imagine.”

  “But I have been.” He lowered his voice. “Give me one minute between those legs, and I could have you melting like butter.”

  “Hush.”

  His fingers drifted too close, brushing my arm. “I bet you’re soft and smooth.”

  “You better behave.”

  “And I know you’d taste sweet and spicy.”

  “Keep dreaming, Casanova.”

  His expression hardened, and his words hollowed with a sincerity I didn’t know he possessed.

  “I bet you’re perfect,” he whispered.

  I didn’t look away. “For you? Probably.”

  “Just let me try.” He took my hand, and I allowed him to trace his fingers over mine. “Christ, Ladybug. I’m starting to think you don’t like me.”

  “Trust me. I’m denying you for your own good.”

  “I never thought you’d be this cruel.”

  “I know what I want.”

  His words rumbled, deep and dangerous. “So do I.”

  I swallowed. “I’m not surrendering to a man who is looking for a meaningless night of fun.”

  He pulled my hand to his lips, gently kissing my fingertips. A shiver rolled through me. He felt it. Smiled.

  “What if I promise you more than one night?” he asked.

  If only he could promise me the rest of our lives. I might’ve surrendered right then.

  “Well, now we’re just bargaining,” I said.

  “Good thing I don’t know how to haggle.”

  “I do. But I doubt I’ll get a good deal.”

  His kisses nibbled over my hand. “I’d make it worth your time.”

  “I should hope so.”

  “I’m very talented.”

  “You should be, with all your practice.”

  He dropped my hand, glancing up at me with utter confusion. “Do you really think I’m a terrible guy? Some coldhearted bastard?”

  I could answer that honestly. “No. But I think you might be a slut.”

  He shrugged. “That hurts. It’s true. But it hurts.”

  I pulled away as the historical society began arguing about towing the sculpture out of the square. This much attention in the center of town was no good for either of us, or for any implications of our conversation.

  But Quint stood when I did, blocking my escape.

  What did he want me to say? It wasn’t like I could confess everything to him. I’d tried that. It had landed him in the hospital. And though I knew my words weren’t what caused the diabetic to nearly coma, I wasn’t jinxing his health any more than he already did with the perpetual pack of M&Ms in his pocket.

  “I’m not interested in fooling around, Quint.” I couldn’t meet his gaze. “I want more than that.”

  I spoke the truth, but Quint couldn’t hear it.

  “How can you know what you want when you’ve never had it?” he asked. “Maybe all you need is one amazing night. One man to show you what you’ve been missing.”

  “And maybe you need a single woman to show you what those amazing nights are supposed to be like.”

  “Where do I sign up?”

  I laughed. “I don’t think you can even spell monogamy.”

  He shrugged. “Sure, I can. B-o-r-i-n-g.”

  And that was the exact reason I had yet to surrender to Quint Payne.

  I turned away, frustrated, but Quint grabbed my arm and hauled me back into him. I cast a nervous glance over the town square, but the few remaining people had armed themselves with axes and shovels and were headed toward the butter sculpture. No one paid any mind to us.

  His whisper turned gruff. “Maybe your way would be exciting.”

  I knew what he was doing. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do.” He bumped my chin up with a finger, forcing me to lose myself within the envy green promise of his eyes. “Maybe I need the right woman, the right words, and the right body.”

  “But you’re doing it for the wrong reasons.”

  “Nothing is wrong if it’s with you, Ladybug.”

  “This would be.”

  “Says who?”

  “My conscience.”

  “Then maybe she should meet your pussy. Talk some sense into her. All that kitty needs is a little attention.”

  I tapped my hand against his chest, wishing I hadn’t imagined the muscle underneath. “And you need a damned fire hose.”

  “Maybe we balance each other out.”

  Those were the words I’d wanted to hear for so long but I knew just couldn’t be possible.

  “And maybe we're just supposed to be friends,” I whispered.

  “Then why don’t we get really friendly?”

  Quint tugged me close, and, like a fool, I gave in. I closed my eyes and parted my lips to meet his in a moment of pure energy. The heat blossomed from within me, vibrating, bursting forth with such excitement and enthusiasm and agonizing desire that I had no idea how badly I had fallen for him until his tongue flicked mine.

  What would a girl have to do to get kissed like this every day?

  And what could a kiss like that do to her every night?

  He pulled away with a victorious smile, and my breath released in a tremble of whimpers.

  “Now are you willing to try that contingency plan?” Quint asked.

  Pure need nearly dropped me to my knees. “I don’t think we’d be very productive.”

  “I always think better when I’m lying in bed. Care to join me?”

  I wanted it. So badly. Every nerve in my body ached for his touch.

  My blood simmered. My breath panted. My heart clattered around my chest in a daze of wanton confusion.

  But it wasn’t right. I couldn’t take advantage of him, and I couldn’t let him take advantage of me. Not like this. Not until he knew how I felt about him.

  “Do you really want me?” I whispered.

  His jaw clenched. “More than you can know.”

  “Then test it,” I said. “See if you still want me just as much tomorrow.”

  His words heated. “That’ll only make me want you more, Ladybug.”

  “Don’t you get it yet?” I still tasted him on my lips, and I savored that remembered warmth. “That’s the real plan, Romeo.”

  9

  Quint

  “Come on, Ladybug…I promise, if you let me, I’ll make it really quick.”

  I couldn’t believe I was begging.

  Couldn’t believe I hadn’t tried sooner.

  “And that’s supposed to persuade me?” Lady laugh
ed.

  Christ, even her giggle enthralled me.

  She had no idea how beautiful she looked in that dress. How the silk caressed her dark legs, fit her perfect curves, and promised something even prettier beneath the fabric.

  “I can be fast, if that’s what you want,” I said.

  She teased me with an unbelievably tempting, puffy little pout of her lovely lips.

  “How fast are we talking?”

  “You won’t even notice.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  I took her hand, reveling in her soft delicate touch. “I’ll only ask this one time.”

  “You’ve been asking. Again and again.” She pulled her fingers away before I could kiss them. “And if I give in, you’ll know that you can always take advantage of my kindness.”

  I already knew that, but I hadn’t tried it yet. That had to count for something, especially from a man like me.

  I flashed a smile. “Consider it a favor?”

  She still wasn’t convinced. “Just this once?”

  “I’ll be in and out.”

  She shimmied her hips, contemplating the offer as the pink sundress dizzied me with possibilities. Would she even have believed me if I complimented how lovely she looked? Not everything I said was a line. I told her the truth every chance I could get, and I’d reveal it all now if she asked.

  She was a goddess.

  A vision.

  A ball-crushingly divine beauty who’d bring me to my knees and keep me there.

  And I’d probably love it.

  “Do this for me?” I asked.

  She smelled of vanilla, flowers, and everything sweet.

  “And what do I get out of it?” she asked.

  That much was obvious. “A perfect night with me. All of your dreams coming true.”

  “Except you forgot the most important thing.”

  I had the condoms in my pocket.

  Problem was, I’d forgotten my speech.

  I patted the seat of the four-wheeler, offering her the chance to ride behind me.

  Apparently, this proposition made me the crazy one.

  Lady crossed her arms, plumping what hid beneath the rounded neckline of her dress. A modest cut. Not too revealing, not too prim. Just enough to sear the image in my mind and plague me every goddamned day and night and hour I managed to hide in the shower. Those thoughts didn’t dissipate under the water, especially as I was forced to use my hand to get myself off like some sort of animal.