Tempted (Thornton Brothers Book 2) Read online

  “Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Hamish said.

  Tyler sat opposite his father, nothing but a long black sitting in front of him. “How’s the coffee?” I asked, eluding to our conversation the night before.

  Tyler looked up at me, no amusement or acknowledgement crossing his face. “It is adequate, thank you,” he replied.

  “You do know that Lauren and I are leaving today,” Gabe said to Billie.

  “Well…” Billie took the napkin from her lap and draped it across her plate. “The thing is, I’ve got the fashion show tonight and—”

  “We really can’t stay,” Gabe said, biting down on the toast again. “We’ve got to go back to Lauren’s parents’ to pick up her car before driving home. We’ve got around seven hours of travel ahead of us.”

  “Oh, I’m not asking you to stay simply to watch and I wouldn’t ask unless I absolutely had to.”

  Gabe braced himself, his expression holding a pained wince.

  “You don’t need to pull that face while your step-mother is talking to you, Gable,” Hamish said, clearly annoyed.

  Gabe’s shoulders slumped. “How can I help?” he asked Billie.

  Billie clapped her hands together. “One of the models has come down with this terrible stomach bug or something. It really is quite terrible.”

  “And?” Gabe asked.

  “And I need you to fill in.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” Billie said. “You’d be simply perfect.”

  Gabe held up his hand. “No fucking way,” he stated. “I’m not dressing up in some stupid costume and strutting my stuff in front of people.”

  A small flutter of annoyance crossed over Billie’s expression. “My clothing line does not feature any ‘stupid costumes’,” she said.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Gabe replied, trying to backtrack.

  “Why can’t Jake or Tyler do it?”

  Jake just about choked on his food. “I don’t think I have the look she’s going for.”

  Hamish pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “So you’re happy to pour other people’s coffee, but you’re too proud to help out your family by strutting down a runway? You will do this, Gable. You will help out your step-mother.”

  Gabe tensed and I reached out and place my hand on his thigh under the table. Gabe turned to me. “Lauren, would you mind if we stayed another night?”

  Tyler’s phone rang and he excused himself from the table.

  I smiled tightly, unsure of how Gabe wished me to respond. Hamish Thornton looked at me expectantly, Billie looked at me hopefully and Jake kept shovelling food into his mouth. “Of course not,” I said finally, hoping that Gabe hadn’t been looking to me to protest on his behalf.

  “It’s decided then,” Hamish said, looking at his watch. “I will see you all later. I’ve got to meet someone at the show home.” He walked around the table to plant a kiss on Billie’s head. She looked up at him adoringly.

  “Wait,” Tyler said, walking back into the room. “That was the photographer. It looks as though he’s come back with the same illness your model has, Billie. They both attended the same party last night and a few of the guests are reporting the same symptoms today. It looks as though it’s a bout of food poisoning.”

  “Well, instead of raining it is pouring,” Billie exclaimed.

  Jake stopped chewing. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how the saying goes.”

  Billie just did the flapping thing with her hand again, dismissing his comment.

  “Fuck,” Hamish Thornton said forcefully. It was strange having that word come out of his mouth. Everything about Hamish Thornton spoke of control and calm and the way he said the word defied that image. “Fuck,” he said again, sitting back down at the table. “Those images must be sent by tomorrow afternoon. Tyler, do you know of someone who could fill in?”

  Tyler looked across the table at me and tilted his head. “Lauren,” he said.

  “Lauren?” Hamish echoed, looking over at me with a confused expression. “You’re a photographer?”

  “She’s a great photographer,” Gabe said proudly.

  “Forgive me if this comes across as rude, but do you have any experience? These days everyone claims to be a photographer and there’s a lot more to it than simply cropping and shoving a filter on.”

  I swallowed the nervous knot at the back of my throat. Every person at the table looked at me expectantly. “Some,” I offered weakly. “I used to shoot weddings and I did all the photography for the real estate company I used to work for.”

  Hamish’s head snapped up. “You worked in real estate?”

  “Yes, I was Derek Lee’s personal assistant.”

  “I know Derek,” Hamish said, a small wave of relief passing over his face. “Good man. How come you don’t work there anymore? What made you give up being a personal assistant for working in a coffee shop?”

  Billie reached over and patted her husband’s hand, whispering loudly, “He was her high school sweetheart.”

  My eyes dropped to my lap, but not before I caught Tyler’s burning glare. “Working relationships aren’t always the best with ex-boyfriends.”

  “No,” Hamish said. “I suppose they are not. Will you do it?”

  “I haven’t got any of my equipment with me.”

  “You have a camera though, correct?” Tyler more stated, than asked.

  I nodded.

  “Right,” he said, getting to his feet. “I can take Lauren to the showroom if you like?” He looked to his father.

  “Perfect. I had double booked myself anyway and would have had to spend the entire shoot on a conference call. If you could oversee Lauren that would be wonderful.”

  “I can take her,” Gabe interjected.

  Billie shook her head. “You’re with me. We’ve got to get you ready for the show and I’ll need to let you know what’s expected. There’s a dress rehearsal on later today so the rest of the morning will be spent getting you ready.”

  “Ready?” Gabe replied. “Whatever for? Aren’t I already perfect?”

  Tyler moved behind me and rested his hand on my shoulder. I tried not to let his touch affect me, but my skin burned. It was like the parts of me that he wasn’t touching didn’t exist. There was nothing but him and his hand resting on my shoulder. I drew in a shaky breath.

  “Are you ready, Lauren?” Tyler asked.

  “I guess so,” I replied, pleased that the shakiness hadn’t extended to my voice. I stood, brushing off Tyler’s hand and leaving the rest of my breakfast uneaten.

  Hurriedly, Gabe got to his feet. He pressed his lips to me at the same time Tyler’s hand brushed against mine. I could have sworn his fingers danced with mine for a fraction, but then he walked out the door, instructing me to gather my camera even as Gabe’s mouth kissed mine urgently.

  “I’m sorry,” he mouthed against my ear, drawing me in for an embrace. “We’ll be home tomorrow and it will just be the two of us.”

  I smiled and moved to follow Tyler up the stairs to collect my camera.

  8

  LAUREN

  Tyler’s car was flashy and sleek and the complete opposite of Gabe’s. He drove through the narrow streets, barely looking at me or engaging in conversation.

  “A little information of what is expected would be good,” I said as the GPS announced we were getting close to our destination.

  “It is a show home for a retirement village. The photographs are expected to entice occupants.”

  “Expected?” I said, growing more and more nervous. I hadn’t done any professional photography in years and the thought of what I was about to do was weighing on me heavily.

  Tyler didn’t respond, just manually shifted the car down a gear and turned into a wide driveway. “This is just one of the houses planned for replication over the entire village. Hamish would like a sense of home and personality installed within the photos.”

  “Is it at least furnished?”
>
  Tyler’s brows furrowed. “Of course it is.”

  The car slid to a smooth stop and Tyler got out of the car to open my door while I fumbled with my camera.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled as he shut the door firmly behind me.

  “This way,” he instructed.

  Tyler said very little as he wandered around the house. The words ‘sense of home and personality’ echoed in my ears and I was afraid, due to the rigid placement of the furnishings, I was going to fail miserably. Tyler disappeared while I strolled through the recently planted and obviously staged garden, pressing my finger to the shutter without feeling like I was capturing what I was supposed to. Tyler returned, coffee in hand.

  “I hope you told the person behind the counter that they were capable of more with their lives,” I said, taking the cup from him. It was a latte and made just the way I liked it.

  Tyler didn’t acknowledge my little dig because his phone rang and he excused himself. When I walked into the kitchen an idea popped into my head. I thought back to how I used to stage the houses I photographed for market, the way I let the mess of everyday living creep into my shots. I searched the cupboards and found a row of pristine white cups. Placing one on the white bench, I poured my coffee into it, letting some splash onto the counter top. I took a picture with the sun streaming in through the window, almost illuminating the spill. Then I went back into the bedroom and took off my top, opening a dresser drawer and dumping the blue material into the open crack, letting the sleeve spill out and fall down the dresser. After messing up the sheets on the bed, I pressed the shutter, the exposed garment of clothing crisp, clear and vibrant against the blurred background of the bed which looked like someone had just climbed out of it. I was so intent, so focussed, that I got a fright when Tyler cleared his throat.

  “I’m not sure if ‘mess’ is the personality my father was after,” he said, leaning against the doorway.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, holding my eye to the camera. “I took lots before I messed it up. I was just trying to make it more lived in.”

  “With a top draped over a dresser that clearly does not belong to an older woman?”

  I looked at the thin material. It was one of those tops that was for looks only, not offering any warmth or perfection with its loosely woven gaps.

  “It was all I had,” I replied, letting a little bit of annoyance creep into my tone. “There isn’t a lot else to work with.”

  “You don’t like this home?”

  “It’s very…” I paused taking a few more photos, before spinning around and taking a shot of Tyler leaning against the doorway, arms across his chest and not even a shadow of a smile on his expression. “It’s very clinical,” I finished.

  “Clinical sells,” he said.

  “Personality sells,” I replied, quoting Derek, though even he mocked the way I took photos, well, at least, he did until he saw the spike in interest they brought.

  “Why did you suggest me?” I asked.

  “Because you said you were a photographer.”

  “You remembered that?”

  Tyler moved from the doorway to stand next to the window and looked out over the snow-capped mountain ridge that framed the horizon. “Of course, I remembered. It was only last night.”

  “You were very drunk.”

  “And you were stoned.” Tyler lifted one brow, again reminding me of a dark-haired, less smiley, more intimidating Gabe. “Besides, you’re the only one I’ve ever come across that is comfortable completing a job in a singlet top.”

  I grabbed my top back from the dresser, tugging it over my head and trying not to look at Tyler who I knew was smirking at my discomfort.

  “What do you see in him?”

  “Who?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

  “My kid brother.”

  Absently, I pressed the shutter, barely aware of the shots I was taking, and unwillingly concentrating on the way Tyler was following me around the room, head tilted to one side, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans.

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” I said.

  “Really? Enlighten me. What am I trying to do?”

  “Always calling Gabe your kid brother, trying to put him down.”

  “He is my kid brother,” Tyler replied.

  “I get that you two don’t like each other very much, but you don’t need to drag me into the middle of it.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  “Well, it is, isn’t it?”

  Tyler shook his head and sat on one of the black leather couches in the lounge. “You’ve got me all wrong. I’m not asking how he is because I’m trying to put down my little brother. Why would I do that? I’m asking because I’m genuinely interested. What do you two do together?” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Do you go dancing at the club? Do you sit at home and watch TV?”

  I took a deep breath and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. It wasn’t the best choice I could have made, but by the time that dawned on me, it was too late. “We play pool.”

  Tyler looked up, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Pool? You play pool?”

  “I like playing pool,” I said stubbornly.

  Tyler nodded. “As do I,” he said. “But it’s certainly not how I would choose to spend my time with you.”

  I pressed down on the shutter forcefully. “I think we’re done here.”

  “We are?” Tyler said. “I was hoping we were just getting started.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “What?” Tyler asked. “I enjoy watching you click that button.”

  I gathered my bag and what little equipment I had brought with me. “Can we just go now?”

  Tyler stepped closer. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

  I side stepped around him. “Not at all. It’s just that Gabe texted and he and Billie are back from the hairdressers. I can’t wait to see how he looks.”

  “Just the same, but with shorter hair, I imagine,” Tyler said grumpily.

  “They better not have chopped it short.” I opened the car door and climbed in, waiting until Tyler was seated before finishing my statement. “I love running my fingers through his hair.”

  Tyler didn’t speak on the way back, except to tell me that his father would require the photos the following morning.

  I walked into the lounge to find Gabe sitting on the couch, staring glumly at the TV, dressed in nothing but boxer shorts. His skin was dark and stained with drip lines. His hair had been shaved short at the sides, but was still long on the top, like a thick mohawk. And it had been coloured darker, with a tint of auburn. His eyes moved to meet mine just as he reached into a bag of chips. A smile twitched at the corners of my mouth.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  “Don’t what?” I asked, this time smiling fully.

  “I had to stand there while some woman sprayed me like a fucking car.”

  He frowned and I noticed even his eyebrows had been shaped and coloured. I sat down beside him, careful not to touch in case the dark-orange stain rubbed off on me.

  “I hate it,” he said when my eyes moved to his new hairstyle.

  I ran my fingers through the shock of hair. “I don’t know,” I said. “I think I rather like it.” I tugged it tightly against his scalp. “It’s still long enough to hold onto.”

  A light sparked in Gabe’s eye. “Do you?” he asked. “You don’t hate it? I was afraid you’d hate it.”

  “I definitely don’t hate it.” I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Gabe grabbed for me, but I caught his hand. “Not when you’re covered in this stuff.”

  He strained against my grip playfully. “You can help me wash it off, if you like.”

  “Don’t!” Billie screeched behind us and Gabe repelled from me like someone had slapped him.

  “Don’t do that!” he yelled back. “You gave me a hell of a fright.”

  Tyler and Jake stood behind Billie, Jake grinning stup
idly and Tyler glaring as though someone had just run over his puppy.

  “You will ruin everything if you smudge it now.” Billie stormed over and physically removed me from Gabe’s side and deposited me next to Tyler. “You stay away from him,” she warned, wagging her finger in my face. Beside me, Tyler tensed and took a step away.

  “Why am I the only one who has to do this?” Gabe wailed from his place on the couch. Already some of the stain from his skin had smudged against the white material.

  Billie’s eyes flew to the intruding colour. “You were supposed to only sit on the towel,” she complained angrily.

  “But it’s so small,” he said.

  Jake laughed. “Didn’t I hear you say something similar this morning, Lauren?”

  I elbowed his side.

  “Why don’t Jake and Tyler have to walk in this stupid show?”

  Billie put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

  “Sorry, it’s not stupid,” he amended.

  “Look, honey.” Billie sat beside him and attempted to adjust the towel beneath him. “They’re simply not pretty enough.”

  Jake scoffed. “Says you.”

  Billie shot him a glare. “They are not pretty like you are pretty.” She patted his cheek. “You are beautiful.”

  Gabe crossed his arms. “And they are not?”

  Billie uncrossed his arms and placed them at his sides. “Not in the same way that you are. I have a winter in wonderland theme, going on. I want all things light and heavenly and beautiful. I want angels. Not demons.” Billie checked the time on her watch. “Right,” she announced. “You may now go and shower.”

  “Thank goodness,” Gabe said, getting up from the couch. He reached for my hand but Billie slapped it away.

  “Alone,” she said. “You shower alone.”

  9

  LAUREN

  Since I had already worn the only nice dress I brought with me twice, I borrowed one of Billie’s for the fashion show. She and Gabe had left hours before everyone else and I had spent the free time flicking through the photos I had taken earlier on a borrowed laptop. I made a note of each of my favourite shots, choosing a selection of both staged and formal, as well as my ‘messy’ personality ones. I would need to do a little touching up later before supplying Hamish with a copy, but I was pleased with what I had seen so far.