Chapter One Read online

  He hadn't said what he did for a living. She didn’t know exactly who he was, but the look in his eyes…there was something about him. Something familiar. Something safe.

  When he'd said they'd protect her, she'd believed him.

  Now if she could just wait out this storm without embarrassing herself in front of the two gorgeous Deveraux brothers...

  When she stepped from the bathroom, the shutters were down, and the room was dark. Candles dotted the space, giving it a romantic glow.

  She was not going to think about romance.

  “Chérie?” Jules called. He leaned into the living area from the kitchen. “Feeling better?”

  “Much. Thank you.” She noticed her camera bag was sitting on top of the armoire. The big dog lying at the base of the front door looked up at her and wagged his tale a few times.

  “Hungry? André makes the best gumbo in five counties.” For an instant the thought that the food might be drugged crossed her mind, but she quickly put it out of her head. They'd come out there to find her. Why would they risk being struck by lightning only to harm her?

  She nodded and followed Jules into the kitchen. He and Andre must have changed while she was in the shower. They were both in dry shirts and fresh jeans. Wind howled around the cabin walls like a wolf during mating season. It gave her chills.

  “Are you guys sure this is a safe place to be?” She gulped as a loud bang of thunder shook the floor.

  “Perfectly safe. We engineered it dat way. All de materials were made to withstand high winds. And da foundation floats, so rising water is no problem.”

  “Well... wow.” She glanced around at the homey interior. They sure weren't your typical bachelors.

  “What made you want to be a wildlife photographer?” Jules asked, pulling bowls off of a shelf. She watched his sure, easy movements. It was as if he'd performed the task a thousand times. Beneath his jeans and the fabric of his shirt she could see his well-toned muscles. He placed three spoons on the counter, and her gaze zeroed in on his long fingers.

  He'd asked her a question...photographer. Her. Right.

  “I love wildlife, to start with. My parents had me out of the house every weekend when I was little. I've been to more national parks than I can count. In high school I was on the yearbook staff and in college, journalism. So it seemed like a natural progression.”

  “What's the most majestic thing you've ever photographed?” André asked from the stove. The recessed lights overhead showed off his five o'clock shadow and the chiseled lines of his face. God, she'd love to photograph the two of them. There was something so rugged about them. Something so untamed in their eyes. Dark eyes that reminded her of the waters of the bayou. Somewhere you could easily get lost.

  “Tigers!” she said quickly, remembering his question. “Last year I photographed tigers in Africa. I was scared to death and totally exhilarated at the same time.”

  “Did they try to eat you?” The corner of his full, kissable mouth pulled up into a smile that did funny things to her stomach.

  “No,” she said, laughing.

  “They didn't want to eat her, mon frere. They probably wanted to lick her from head to toe.” Jules’ words brought naughty images to mind. Images of him and her naked. Him licking her from head to toe. Her toes curled against the wood floor. “What would you like to drink, chérie? We have wine, water, and beer.”

  Figured, she thought with a mental smile. Bachelors and their beer.

  “Water's fine, thanks.” He looked as if he wanted to object, but instead he pulled a glass from the shelf and then reached into the fridge for a bottle of water.

  “I should probably get you an extra. André 's gumbo can be spicy. He likes it like he likes his women... hot 'n spicy,” Jules teased. Angelica found herself relaxing a little.

  He put the glass and bottle on the table. “Have a seat.”

  They were so much more laid back than William. She sighed. She wasn't going to think about him. She wasn't.

  “So tell me about yourselves. What do you do? Favorite sports team? Ever been married? All that jazz.”

  As soon as the words left her mouth she dropped her head into her hands. What an idiot.

  “We're Saints fans all the way,” Jules said as if she hadn't embarrassed herself. “Here ya go.” He put a bowl of gumbo in front of her.

  A bold combination of scents wafted under her nose. Soon the men joined her. They both had a big glass of ruby red wine in front of them, and suddenly that looked like a good idea.

  She bit her bottom lip and picked up her spoon. It was just a meal. A safe place until the storm passed. Surely she could keep her hormones in check for that long.

  “How did William know where to find you?” Jules scooped a spoonful of gumbo into his mouth. She watched him chew, fascinated by his strong jaw.

  “I have no idea,” she said, shaking her head. Irritation clawed at her when she thought of him coming all this way as if she belonged to him. As if she was an item to be owned and carried around. That made her no better than a pet. A dog.

  Another loud clap of thunder shook the building, and she shivered.

  “You're safe, chérie.”

  Jules quiet voice calmed her, and she smiled across the table at him. For some inexplicable reason she found herself believing him. It was hard not to. He had such a commanding presence.

  André got up a few minutes later to refill his bowl, and she realized she'd hardly touched her food. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, she dug in with gusto. It was pretty spicy. Her eyes watered, and she reached for her water glass.

  “Good?” Jules asked with a sexy smile. Her stomach did a flip-flop.

  She nodded and dropped her eyes to her bowl. Dear Lord, where was her willpower? Why was she so attracted to him? To them both?

  The thought sent a ripple of desire through her. She took a deep steadying breath, but it did little to stop the thoughts, the images, running through her mind.

  “So what were you photographing out there today? Seems like a bad time to be out shootin' pictures,” André said.

  “I was capturing the wildlife as it runs from the storm. Birds are particularly in tune with the weather. Most animals are, actually.”

  “Have you ever taken pictures of wolves?”

  “No, but I've always wanted to. They're a favorite of mine.”

  “A favorite, hmm?” Jules took a sip of his wine, and her gaze followed his movements. His lips were red, his mouth dangerously sexy. What would it be like to kiss him?

  “Yeah—” Her voice cracked. “I—um, I adopted one, actually. Through a Save the Wolves campaign. They send me pictures of him once a year and let me know how he and his pack are doing. He's beautiful.”

  “Males aren't beautiful,” André said.

  “Handsome, then. He's a very handsome wolf.”

  “Does he have a mate?”

  “Not yet. Maybe one day. I don't want him to be a loner forever.” She took another bite.

  Jules smiled and André frowned, a wrinkle creasing his forehead. “Loner?”

  “You know. Alone. Never settling down. I want him to find a mate and have cute, little wolf puppies, and then I could be a grandma.”

  The men exchanged a glance, and she realized how crazy she sounded.

  Gosh, she didn't even have any cats, and she was already the crazy old lady...

  “Nevermind,” she muttered and quickly polished her bowl. Then she drained her glass and tried to convince her taste buds that they were not on fire.

  “I like that idea, actually. Settling down and having wolf puppies.” Jules nodded as if getting used to the idea. Then he smiled.

  “I just don't want him to be alone, that's all.”

  “We can understand that, chérie. Can't we, André ?”

  André’s eyes darkened, but he gave a terse nod. Then he was out of his chair, collecting the bowls.

  An uncomfortable silence hung in the room. Angelica wondered if she'd said
something wrong.

  “What would you like to do until the storm passes?” Jules asked.

  She shrugged. “What do you normally do?”

  “Read. Play cards. How about a game of Scrabble?” His drawl combined with his enthusiasm was sexy as hell.

  “Well, I'm not much of a speller, but I'll give it a shot.”

  “Dat's da spirit, chérie.” He strode into the candle lit living room and knelt in front of the TV armoire.

  André sat another bottle of water next to her glass, and she smiled up at him. The predatory look in his eyes momentarily shocked her. But it was gone before she could be certain of what she'd seen. He dropped into his seat at the round table and took a long drink from his wine glass.

  Jules came back with the game and laid it out in front of them. They took turns selecting pieces from the bag. Angelica stared at the letters and wondered what the hell she was going to spell with them.

  “Rules are, any words go. You get double points for dirty and triple for animals. In Angelica's honor.” Jules flashed her a grin and selected a letter from the bag. “Whoever has the lowest letter goes first.”

  She and André did the same.

  “I got an O,” she said, showing them the wooden piece.

  “B,” Jules said. André held up an E.

  “Looks like I'm first.” Jules put his letter back in the bag. He rested his chin on his fist as he studied his letters. His eyes darted back and forth like he was magically figuring out all possible combinations.

  “Well,” he said finally. “It's not that big, but I think it's gonna help me win.” He laid down the pieces, and she stared at the word. Fox.

  He glanced at the ceiling, obviously doing some mental math. “Double word—triple because it's an animal. Seventy eight points.”

  “Dang.”

  “That's too short,” André complained.

  And so it began. Brotherly rivalry. Crazy rules. And enough sexual tension to burn the cabin down. André gave his brother an evil grin and then smiled at her apologetically.

  “Double word, ya know.”

  Fuck.

  “Well, it's definitely dirty,” she said, hardly recognizing her husky voice. She reached for her water.

  Staring at her letters, she kept wishing that there was an L on the board. She'd never been much good at this game. Words were not her thing. How was she supposed to use three Os?

  “Well, they're your rules,” she murmured and laid down three pieces off of André’s word.

  “Cock. I like the way your mind works, chérie,” Jules said. She felt a blush heat her cheeks.

  “They're your rules,” she protested.

  “You're embarrassing her,” André inserted smoothly.

  “What am I supposed to do with three Os?”

  Jules threw his head back and laughed. Even as embarrassment flooded her, she found herself loving the rich happy sound. He leaned forward and pegged her with a glance that melted her insides. “Well, chérie, I'd think you'd cry out with pleasure.” He raised an eyebrow in a way she found deliciously sexy. “Over. And over. And over again.”

  Her blush deepened, but her pussy grew moist at his words. She took a shuddering breath, utterly amazed at the effect his words, the mental pictures flashing before her eyes, had on her body. How did she manage to say such crazy things?

  He made no move to continue the game; he merely regarded her. Uncomfortable with his intense gaze, she reached for the bag and pulled out new letters.

  Now she got an L.

  “It's your turn,” she told him.

  “Clit. Double word,” he said and wrote down his score.

  André studied the board for a moment and then laid down box.

  At least that wasn’t remotely sexual.

  She focused on her letters and rearranged them a few times. A loud bang against the wall behind her startled a shriek from her throat. Her heart pounded, and her blood surged through her veins.

  “You're okay, petite. Why don't you come sit over here by me?” Jules offered.

  “You'll look at my letters,” she said with mock fierceness.

  “I wouldn't do that. I promise.” Before she could reply he'd stretched toward her and was pulling her and her chair across the floor toward him. She grabbed for her tray of letters but kept them carefully angled away.

  His nearness, his warmth, surrounded her. Tempted her. Her breasts tingled in anticipation.

  “Tongue,” she announced as she laid down her letters.

  “Cock and now tongue. Have something on your mind, cher?” Jules teased. That now familiar flutter tickled her insides. How was she supposed to steel herself against his flirtations? He was a master.

  He made her forget about William, the storm brewing outside, even her own nervousness. What she couldn't figure out was why he would be interested in someone who was a bit bigger than average and not your typical blonde with blue eyes.

  She remembered what he'd said about loving strawberries...

  “Maybe wine isn't such a bad idea,” she murmured.

  “I'll get it. You play,” André told Jules.

  When André returned with her wine, Jules had laid down the word gem.

  “As in gem stone?”

  Jules nodded.

  The lights flickered once, twice, and then they were cast into darkness. With no light, her other senses immediately took over. The rain beat against the house furiously. It seemed alive, like it was trying to claw its way in. A nervous tremor coursed through her veins.

  A heavy hand settled on her knee, and she jumped, a girly squeal erupting from her throat.

  “Shh... you're okay. Let your eyes adjust.” By the tone she could tell it was Jules who was comforting her.

  Slowly the candle light from the living room brightened their corner of the kitchen.

  “Looks like we’re done for a while,” he said, his voice low... seductive.

  She turned to look at him, able to make out his features, the hungry look in his eyes. Glancing over at André, she saw him watching her closely. The intimate inspection unnerved her. Made her want to shift in her seat.

  But the hand on her knee squeezed gently, reassuring her. When she looked into Jules' eyes, she hardly noticed the rumble of thunder or the howling wind.

  “I want to kiss you,” he whispered.

  “Are you asking permission?” she asked and held her breath.

  “No,” he said roughly, and before she could blink, his lips were crushing hers. She shifted toward him, closing her eyes. He cupped her cheek in his hand, and she wanted to rub herself against it. To soak up his warmth, his strength.

  He probed at her lips with his tongue, and she opened for him. As his tongue swept inside she heard someone groan. She wasn't sure who.

  He tasted rich... of wine and gumbo. Their tongues danced back and forth, and she clung to his shoulders. Her breasts were heavy and aching for his touch. She felt hungry, empty.

  Slowly he severed the kiss, and a tiny sound of protest escaped her lips.

  “Damn, you know how to kiss. So soft and tempting. Giving and demanding all at once,” he said, sounding out of breath. “I could kiss you for hours.”

  That could be arranged, she thought blissfully.

  It was as if the whole day, since she'd first caught sight of them in the woods, had been leading up to this moment. Priming her, readying her for his kiss. His touch.

  A warm hand curled around her shoulder, and she turned to look up at André. That predatory look was back, and it called to something inside of her. Quickly she glanced back at Jules.

  He cocked his head to the side. “You didn't think he was going to let me keep you all to myself, did you?”

  Before she could answer André wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her up into the circle of his arms. His lips came down hard on hers. Hot and demanding. This was no slow taste test. It was pure urgency. Breath-stealing, soul-searing passion. He held her close, his hands branding her th
rough the thin fabric of the T-shirt.

  First Jules. Now Andre. If he hadn’t been kissing her senseless, she was sure she would have wondered at the fact that she had let two gorgeous Cajuns kiss her. Within seconds of each other, no less. But his lips chased away all coherent thought, and the only signals being sent to her brain were pleasurable feelings.

  She let her hands slide up the solid wall of his chest and settle on his broad shoulders. Touching him was a sensual journey all its own. His muscles rippled beneath her fingertips, causing her to tingle deep inside. Moisture pooled between her thighs.

  The tip of his tongue swept along the seam of her lips, but instead of seeking entrance, she realized he'd licked her. Her knees went weak, and he held her to him as if she weighed nothing at all.

  All the wonderful, sexy sensations bombarding her made her light-headed. This was her ultimate fantasy. Could she be dreaming? She didn't think so. She'd never have come up with anything this perfect. Her imagination wasn't overly fruitful. And in her wildest dreams she'd never met two men who could equal Jules or André.

  “You're thinking too much,” André murmured against her lips. “Take her upstairs.”

  His words doused her like a shower that had just run out of hot water. Upstairs? With them? Both of them?

  Before she could protest, or even decide on her options, Jules' arms wrapped around her, and then she was being lifted. He settled her high against his chest, and her insides went to mush. She'd never been picked up like this before.

  Yep, she must be dreaming.

  “If you don't want us, chérie, now is the time to say stop,” Jules said as he carried her across the living room.

  Us. The word hung in the air. She stared up at Jules’ profile. Her heart squeezed in her chest, and she realized she liked him. But they hadn’t even had a first date. And it wasn’t like she knew all that much of about him. About either of them really.

  Except they’d come out into a hurricane to find her. They’d sworn to protect her from her asshole ex boyfriend. They’d fed her and sheltered her from the storm. Without her knife she was perfectly defenseless and yet they’d been complete gentlemen.