Wrangled Read online

  “Was it just you and your mother growing up?” Jamison asked.

  I shook my head, tucked my hair behind my ear. “My mother married my stepfather when she was pregnant with me. That was what I’d just learned. I thought the ring had come first, that Peter Vandervelk was actually my father, but that wasn’t the case.”

  I flicked my gaze from my cup to the guys. They were watching me closely, but remained quiet. Waited for me to say more.

  “He has three older kids from a previous marriage. Two are doctors now, the other a lawyer.”

  “Impressive,” Jamison replied neutrally.

  I thought of Kyle, Ryan and Evelyn. Their drive was impressive. A neurosurgeon, a thoracic specialist and the youngest female partner ever in her Charlotte law firm. I shrugged because while they were brilliant in their fields, they weren’t very nice people.

  “Any chance your mother is Congresswoman Vandervelk?” Boone asked.

  The corner of my mouth tipped up. “You looked me up, just as I did for you.”

  He nodded. I was actually kind of glad they already knew some things about me because I didn’t have to go into detail. I didn’t have to tell them that my mother had lied, not only to me but the entire world, about who my father was. How it was more important for her to keep up with appearances with her constituents than for me, her own daughter, to know the truth.

  “Why do you want to hear what you already know?” I wondered aloud. I put my hands in my lap, wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt.

  “Because I want to hear it from you,” Boone replied simply.

  I sighed. “Yes, my mother is a member of Congress. My stepfather is the Vice Chancellor of a university hospital in Charlotte. Fancy titles for fancy people.”

  “You studied science,” Boone added.

  I was surprised he wasn’t asking more about my parents. That was what most people did. They either wanted something from them or at least the connection to them through me.

  “Yes, my focus was subsurface geoscience.”

  They both listened intently, their eyes squarely on me as if I was the only thing around, the only thing of interest, not the guy who was asking the cashier for directions or the beeps for the gas pumps.

  “I spent months in Iceland finishing my thesis, which I won’t bore you with. That’s why I didn’t know about the inheritance or Aiden Steele. Any of it, until I came back. My mail had been on hold.”

  “I had to do tons of science for med school, but I have no idea what subsurface geoscience is.” Boone was being open. Honest. They both were. And they were actually interested in me. In my life. No networking to get to my parents.

  “Subsurface geoscience? In three words: Oil and gas.”

  Jamison rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. I couldn’t miss the ruffling of his short hair, a contrast to the tanned skin. I wondered if it was soft to the touch, if his skin was warm, what it would feel like against my lips. I was thinking all these hot, distracted thoughts about them. Had been from the first time I saw them. I’d never really considered a guy enticing enough to have sex with. Before now. Sure, I’d met handsome men, but none of them had done it for me. Now, all of a sudden, my hibernating libido decided to wake up. Like a toddler after eating too much sugar, wired and raring to go. I wanted Jamison. I wanted Boone, and I wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it. I had no idea how to seduce one man, let alone two.

  “There are good careers in that, especially around here.”

  Yes, in this part of the country, mineral rights, oil and gas rights, extraction even, were big news. A big deal. There were many issues between environmentalists and extraction companies. Big money. Big destruction, too. Crazy things like increased radon levels and even man-made earthquakes. It was a political nightmare.

  “Yes, I’ve been wooed already. Job offers.” I gave them a quick, small smile. “But I’ve got my dissertation outline for my PhD that comes next.”

  “You don’t sound very excited about that. The jobs or the PhD,” Jamison murmured, studying me closely, as if he could hear the truth past the words.

  A customer came inside and the bell above the door dinged. He went to the counter, asked for a pack of cigarettes.

  “A Vandervelk is high achieving.” The words were like a mantra, drilled into me since birth. I replied automatically and without even thinking.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  I flicked my gaze up to Boone and he was frowning. He looked mad.

  “I’m Penelope Vandervelk.” I tapped my finger on my chest. “I’m expected to maintain a certain level of accomplishment. I mean, it wouldn’t look good for my mother, or any of the others, if I—”

  Both men leaned forward so they were close, a little too close. “If you what?”

  “If I did what I wanted,” I admitted.

  “What do you want to do, join the circus?”

  I smiled, the idea ridiculous, yet it would be so much fun to tell my mother that. “Of course not.”

  “Did you want to study about oil and gas?”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t believe the way they were digging deep, getting past all the fake smiles and stories I had in place for, well, everyone. I’d learned from the expert on how to converse without really saying anything important. But Boone and Jamison? I couldn’t give false answers. If they could read me so well, could see me so well, they’d see my lies, too. I didn’t want to be fake with them. Didn’t want to have lies between us. I wanted them to know the truth. The real me.

  “You spent years studying a major you didn’t want,” Jamison said. “And you’re planning to continue on, get your PhD just so…what? Your mother can keep up appearances?”

  I fiddled with my coffee cup and Jamison took it from me, put his hand on top of mine. I glanced at it, so big, mine was lost beneath. Hard tabletop against my palm, a warm, yet calloused hand gently offering reassurance above.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” I admitted.

  “Why not?”

  I licked my lips, met Jamison’s eyes. “Because they would have cut me off.”

  Boone leaned back in the booth, laughed and slowly shook his head. “You don’t need their money, sweetheart.” The term of endearment was laced with sarcasm and immediately put me on edge. There wasn’t any warmth to it like when they called me Kitten. “With your degree, you should do just fine on your own. Like you said, you’ve had job offers. You won’t starve, although you might not get the Jag right away.”

  I jerked my hand out from under Jamison’s and slid across the booth, stood. I suddenly felt cold and very alone. “We’re done here.”

  5

  PENNY

  Jamison’s arm hooked about my waist before I took a step, pulled me back so I was tucked into his side. With him sitting, his eyes were right in line with my breasts. His arm was strong, yet his hold was relaxed.

  “Easy, Kitten. Tell us what’s got your claws out.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Boone, angry that he’d jumped to assumptions. Especially since he was just like all the others, thinking I was spoiled. Coddled. Given everything I could ever want. How little they knew.

  “Yes, my family is rich,” I told them, my voice tart. But, I kept it low. Not that the guy behind the counter cared if I shouted or not. With the number of customers coming in and out, any kind of outburst would probably be excitement for him. “It paid for seven years of boarding school. Ivy League college. I didn’t ask for any of it. I don’t care about the money. If I don’t do what’s expected, they’ll cut me off. Entirely.”

  Jamison stood, spun his chair about, sat back down and pulled me onto his lap between one heartbeat and the next. His tug had been gentle, yet he’d moved me so easily, reminding me of the differences in our size, our strengths. He maneuvered me right where he wanted me, and that was tucked in close. My hands went to his shoulders for balance at the surprise shift, although his arm was still banded about my waist. I couldn’t miss the hard expanse of his thighs beneath me, the heat of his body or his clean scent. Not cologne, something subtler, like soap and rugged man. “Jamison!” I cried, trying to get up, to at least shimmy my jean skirt back down a little, but he only tightened his hold, securing me in place.

  I felt tiny in his lap, my head tucked beneath his chin, my feet nowhere near the linoleum floor.

  Boone reached out, tipped up my chin, his dark eyes meeting mine, pinning me in place. The heated stare made me forget all about being in Jamison’s lap. “I didn’t mean to hurt you with my words. But sometimes pulling out a splinter requires a little pain. You mean they’d cut you from the family.”

  I nodded. Admitting it was painful, and the truth had been festering. It wasn’t as if I ever really had their love to begin with, but I’d hoped. Always hoped that I’d get some scraps of affection from them, even from seven states away at boarding school or another country doing my thesis.

  “That’s why—” I cleared my throat, forced the tears away. I had no idea why it always upset me, perhaps because while my family wasn’t anything like the one I wanted—one where there was no question as to the love that was shared, the laughter, the connection—it was the only one I had. “That’s why the inheritance from Aiden Steele, from my…father was perfect timing. I’d finished my Masters and am not eager to continue to get my doctorate. I learned the truth, confronted my mother. She couldn’t deny it, not with the legal documents Riley sent. Even my sister, the lawyer, was impressed. I always wondered why I wasn’t like them. So focused. Driven to be the best.”

  “To get a Masters by twenty-two in that specialized field is driven,” Jamison pointed out.

  “I’m also indifferent, which is a waste. I could handle the study load, but I didn’t really care about it. I didn’t feel passionate about what I was doing. And that’s why I just never fit in. Why my mother was always cool toward me, why the others never liked me. Now I have the answer. I was never really part of the family.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

  I shook my head and Boone dropped his hand. “My mother is a politician. You think having a baby out of wedlock, even years before she took office, is good for her image? My mother and father—stepfather—aren’t the close, loving couple. They don’t even live in the same state most of the year. I have no idea why they married. Well, I know why my mother married. She was pregnant with me. She wasn’t in politics then, but still, she had the mindset. Of course, her affair, fling, whatever it was, with Aiden Steele, was a secret. Still is. At least until now, until he died and made me heir. That’s why I’m in Montana on vacation.”

  Boone’s gaze narrowed as I spoke and I saw the tension building in him. “Vacation?”

  “Mmm hmm, a quiet place where I can get my dissertation outline pulled together for my advisor and the review board. That’s what we agreed on. That I’d take this time to figure out the inheritance without giving away the truth. And get the outline done, of course.”

  “What are you really going to do?” Boone asked, cocking his head to the side.

  I studied the way his white t-shirt stretched so perfectly over his broad shoulders, the muscles beneath so well-defined. I itched to reach out, run my fingertips over them, feel their power. Instead, I shrugged. “It’s a relief actually,” I said, not answering his question. “To know the truth, to finally understand. Now I can go after what I want.” I flicked my gaze up to Boone’s. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

  “What’s that?” Jamison asked, his turn to prod. His hand slid up and down my back, slow and gentle. It was warm. A soft caress. Soothing. It seemed he was very good at lulling the words from me.

  “A family of my own. I know I’m young, too young to think this way, but that’s what I want.” I didn’t hesitate this time, didn’t falter because this was what I’d dreamed of for so long. For as long as I could remember. Lying in bed at night at boarding school, wishing I had a family that wanted me around. I wanted my own home. The scent of cooking coming from the kitchen. A husband who would see only me, want only me. Share a bed, love. To give me the herd of children I wanted who would make a huge mess of the house and bring chaos and insanity. Stained carpet. Dirty dishes in the sink. Muddy shoes on the wood floors. Everything that had been forbidden for me growing up.

  But no guy I’d ever met wanted to hear about getting serious right away. Date for a while, maybe move in together for a few years. Possibly. But they were all thinking short term. Really short term, like one night. That was why I never told anyone the truth, never really dated. Why I was still a virgin.

  I didn’t want to rule the world; I wanted to be Suzy Homemaker. I wanted babies. I wanted a family, a house, a dog. All of it. Aiden Steele had given me the opportunity to get it. A nest egg—a very large one—a house and the chance to be me. The real me. I’d lose my family, but I’d just discovered they really hadn’t been my family. And that was pure relief. If they shut me out, then I knew now it was because I hadn’t belonged anyway. I couldn’t be kicked out of a family where I’d never actually belonged.

  The trouble behind my dream was finding the man. A man who’d want a relationship. I wasn’t the kind of woman who would settle for less. I didn’t do casual. Patrick and Shamus were way too young. They’d want the sex, absolutely, to punch my V-card, but not the results. Orgasms, yes. Long term? No.

  And as for Jamison and Boone? I was attracted to them, wanted them. I told them the truth. They knew it now. Knew of the relationship bombshell and I knew they’d bolt. I bit my lip, waited. No doubt I’d be back at the ranch, alone, within the hour, neither man to be seen again.

  I’d never wanted a one-night stand. I’d had opportunities, but I’d turned every one of them down. I wanted it all and if these two didn’t want to give it to me, then I wasn’t any worse off than before. I’d survive. I barely knew them. I could become better acquainted with my vibrator and be patient for the right guy to come along. I wasn’t going to compromise. I’d done so my whole life with the Vandervelks. I’d done what they’d wanted. Demanded.

  No longer. My ovaries were running the show now. And they were popping out eggs for Jamison and Boone.

  Boone growled, then turned sideways so he sat facing out of the booth. He crooked his finger and Jamison nudged me off his lap so I stood between Boone’s parted knees. Seated as he was, I was taller than him, and it seemed strange to look down at one so big. I frowned. Confused at what he wanted.

  “Should I call a cab?” I asked, not sure if they even had any out here.

  “Cab?” he asked. Boone snared me with his gaze and I felt Jamison at my side. They were close. Closer than two men should be.

  I nodded. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to trap you or anything. You just pulled the truth out of me. I don’t mean anything by it, didn’t mean you specifically. I’ll find the right man eventually.”

  Boone’s big hand cupped my jaw and I was thinking about the feel of the callouses on his palm when his lips met mine. I gasped at the soft feel; the brushing of his mouth was remarkably gentle, as if sampling. Learning. He took that opportunity and his tongue delved and found mine. I gasped again at the pulse of heat I felt at the bold caress. The wet heat was shocking, exhilarating. I’d been kissed before. I might have been a virgin, but I spent my teens in boarding school and college. I’d just been a little too young to do more than that.

  I settled my hands on Boone’s shoulders, felt the play of his muscles as he kept kissing me, using his palm to angle my head as he wanted. His fingers tangled into my hair and I felt his own need in that and in the intensity of the kiss.

  I was warm all over, languid. My nipples hardened against the cotton of my bra and if Boone ever lifted his head, he’d see the evidence of my response. What he wouldn’t be able to see was that my panties were ruined.

  Boone pulled back and I realized I’d closed my eyes. I blinked them open.

  “What was that for?” I asked, my voice breathless. Quiet.

  Boone’s pupils were almost black now, his gaze focused squarely on my lips. His were wet. Reddened. He was affected, too.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that since the second I laid eyes on you. Fuck, you taste good,” he said as an afterthought, more to himself, as he licked his lips.

  “I thought you didn’t even like me,” I countered, confused. Or my brain was mush from this kiss. Or both.

  “Why would you think that?” His breath fanned over the line of my jaw as he kissed, nibbled and licked his way to my ear.

  I tilted my head to give him better access, the slide of his teeth making goosebumps rise on my bare arms.

  “Besides your bold questioning? Because the other day you said, ‘Nice to meet you’ and walked away.”

  He grunted, nipped my earlobe. “That’s because the fucker beside you wasn’t ready to claim you yet.”

  When had Jamison put a hand on my back? It had to be his because Boone’s were tangled in my hair and on my hip. The perk of being with two men—extra hands.

  “Penelope,” Jamison began.

  “Penny,” I countered, trying to catch my breath still. And my wits. Boone was making me very, very distracted. Or it was the pheromones pumping from him? Or the taste of him on my lips? “Only my family calls me Penelope.”

  “Penny’s good, but I like Kitten better,” Jamison replied.

  Boone pulled his fingers from my hair so I could turn my head and look at Jamison.

  “I thought we were too old for you,” Jamison admitted.

  My aroused gaze roved over his face. Took in the little wrinkles around his eyes, the creases in his cheeks. He was thirty-eight, not sixty. I didn’t see old. I saw wise. Experienced. Rugged. Hot. Appealing. I stared at his mouth. Just as kissable as Boone. I wanted to know what he tasted like, too.

  “And now?” I asked. Nervous. If he didn’t want me, that was fine. I’d had crushes before. It was survivable. Or Boone wanted me and Jamison didn’t. Boone was a few years younger, or so I thought. But I didn’t want just Boone. Somehow, for some strange, insane reason, I wanted both of them. And without Jamison, something would feel missing.

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