She simply couldn’t think about this right now or her head would explode. Closing her eyes, Harley leaned her head back against the pillows and staved off a renewed burst of pounding.
She felt Anthony’s mouth brush against her forehead, a gesture of reassurance she appreciated, even if she didn’t feel reassured. “Don’t worry. Something will break.”
Most likely she’d break before her financial troubles did, but she couldn’t even manage sarcasm right now.
“Ah-hem.”
The deep-throated sound of a man wanting attention jarred the moment and she spun toward the sound to find…Gerard standing in her bathroom doorway.
Wrapped in a towel?
“Great bike,” he said to Anthony in a voice as calm as a breeze off Lake Ponchartrain. “You got a brother named Dominic with the police department?”
Obviously he’d decided not to leave last night. Harley supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that he’d make himself at home without an invitation. Arrogant man. She also shouldn’t be surprised that he’d pegged Anthony as Dominic DiLeo’s brother. The man was a former assistant district attorney who would naturally be acquainted with the New Orleans Police Department where Dominic was a lieutenant. Given the strong family resemblance between all the DiLeo boys…
Swallowing hard, Harley dragged her gaze from the sight of all that bare tanned skin, the definition of a muscular chest, the rippled stomach and narrow waist, the toned legs arrowing down from beneath the hem of the towel.
Her hand shook, and Anthony must have noticed because he plucked the cup away and set it on the bedside table.
“Yeah, I do. Is this the knight in shining armor, princess?” He didn’t wait for her reply, just got to his feet, his expression suddenly closed.
She knew he was gauging the situation and wondering what she’d done while under the influence last night. And whether or not he’d need to kick some ass this morning.
Harley hadn’t done too much—thank goodness!—but she’d never appreciated how small her bedroom was until seeing two big men square off in the middle of it. Anthony was about an inch shy of Gerard, which put her co-worker at an easy six-two. He was as dark as Anthony was light, his near nakedness contrasting sharply with Anthony’s fully dressed self. Gerard was attractive in a polished, sculpted sort of way, while Anthony was more rugged, earthy. That was where the differences ended—they were both virile men radiating testosterone.
To Gerard’s credit though, he looked completely unfazed to be caught standing in a towel, facing what might have been an angry boyfriend or a protective older brother.
“Who are you?” Anthony asked.
“Mac Gerard.”
Anthony knew that name. “So you’re the co-worker from hell.”
He made a dramatic show of dropping his gaze to Gerard’s towel. He didn’t extend his hand in greeting or introduce himself. He didn’t need to. His work shirt had a name badge that read Anthony on the front with his company logo on the back.
“Do I thank this guy for getting you and the chopper home, princess, or do I start swinging?”
“Say thanks.”
Anthony inclined his head and the tension dissolved, just like that. But the standoff wasn’t quite over. Anthony waited for Gerard to back down and disappear into the bathroom.
Gerard didn’t. He folded those strong arms across his chest, leaned casually against the doorjamb and said, “Don’t let me disturb you.”
Harley reached for the coffee, needing another sip to fortify her for what she sensed was coming next.
The Anthony DiLeo show.
True, they were in an off-again phase of their relationship and true, they’d dated other people through the years. But they didn’t double-date. They didn’t even bring dates to the DiLeo family home so they couldn’t chance running into each other. Anthony didn’t like any reminders that she wasn’t sitting around waiting for him to come back to her. He was so Italian that way.
Unfortunately, Gerard had just reminded him.
Heading toward her, Anthony took the cup from her hand and helped himself—even though he didn’t like what she drank. Black coffee, fine. Add five shots of espresso and you could walk on it. He tossed back a swallow as if he drank the stuff every day.
“Did you pick up my suit from the cleaners, princess? I’ve got an appointment at the bank at nine o’clock.”
“The closet.”
He returned the cup and stalked across the room to root through her clothing. Harley could feel Gerard’s gaze on her but couldn’t bring herself to return it. Not because she wouldn’t have enjoyed seeing his reaction to what must look like a good reason why not to have a fling, but because she couldn’t withstand another shot of Mr. Tanned, Muscular and Nearly Naked.
The coffee wasn’t that strong.
Anthony found his suit and reemerged. “Can I leave you alone with this guy?”
He wasn’t really worried about her safety or else he wouldn’t have asked. But he liked to mark his territory to make it clear he’d only stepped out for a while.
“Harley will be fine,” Gerard said before she could answer. “She can give me a ride back to my car.”
“My pleasure,” she said dryly.
Anthony nodded, kissed her on the head, flipped the dry-cleaning bag over his shoulder and didn’t acknowledge Gerard as he walked out the door.
“Did you find everything you needed?” she asked Gerard, to bridge through her sudden awareness that they were alone.
He nodded. “Feeling better this morning?”
“Coffee’s doing wonders.”
He shoved his fingers through his damp hair, making his biceps pop enough to catch her attention. Forcing her attention upward, she met those penetrating eyes and more fuzz cleared from around her brain. Suddenly she remembered being cradled against his strong chest, the way his tight butt had felt between her thighs with the chopper growling beneath them. The way his touch had set her body on fire.
“I’ll get dressed and, whenever you’re ready, we can go,” he said pleasantly. “Sound good?”
She nodded, and he disappeared into her bathroom in a flash of tanned motion. He didn’t ask who Anthony was, didn’t ask about their relationship. For a man who’d been gunning to get her into bed, he didn’t seem interested in her personal life.
Unless meeting Anthony had convinced him to give up his stupid idea of a fling. Or maybe he was just like Anthony—willing to share so long as he got her undivided attention when his turn came around.
The thought alone made her scowl, and she couldn’t decide why she felt so angry—at Anthony and Gerard.
Must be the hangover, because she certainly didn’t care what Gerard wanted. But Anthony…well, okay, maybe she was a bit disappointed, but at least she knew what to expect from him.
ANTHONY DILEO AUTOMOTIVE wasn’t a low-end auto-repair concern run out of the man’s garage. This business rivaled the size of a service department at any car dealership and fitted a few puzzle pieces into place about Anthony DiLeo.
Ambitious. Business savvy. A hands-on owner, if Mac had read the work shirt right. But this character assessment didn’t answer the all-important question—who was this guy to Harley?
Something about their relationship struck him wrong. If they’d been dating, would Anthony have left another man standing half-naked in her bedroom? Mac didn’t think so, but he didn’t have the whole picture—about Harley or