Hot Property [Discretions 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  “I look forward to meeting him.”

  “You’re about to. This is our turn. Farafield is on the outskirts of town.”

  He signaled and pulled off the motorway onto a leafy road with large houses set well back in their own grounds. A second turn led to what had to be an even more exclusive area. Connor paused the car in front of electronic gates, pressed a button, and they swung open. What looked like a long-haired pony bounded down the driveway, barked at the car and then ran alongside it, wagging a frond-like tail as Connor drove up to the house.

  “Meet Trafford,” he said, laughing as he cut the engine and opened his door, almost to be knocked backward as the dog rose up onto his hind legs and tried to lick Connor to death. Naomi wasn’t too sure about getting out of the car. “Don’t worry,” Connor said, coming round to open her door for her. “He’s been fed.”

  At a command from Connor, the enormous dog lay flat on the ground, his gaze glued to Naomi, his tail still wagging like crazy. She figured it was safe to get out and swung her legs to the ground.

  “Hey, Trafford,” she said, bending to stroke his shaggy head. She was rewarded with a woof and a thorough hand-licking.

  “See, he’s just a big pussycat really.” Connor laughed as he swung her bags from the boot and headed for the house. “Come along, Naomi, let’s get you settled in.”

  “This place is enormous,” she said, looking up at the façade of a house that had to be a hundred years old and sprawled over a large plot of probably more than a couple of acres. The house looked to be in pristine condition, as were the grounds. “How many people live here?”

  “Jared and Kent have the house. My wife and I live in an apartment over the garage.”

  “Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to her that Connor actually lived on the premises, but she guessed that made sense since if he was at Jared and Kent’s constant beck and call.

  “My wife’s their housekeeper,” he explained, looking toward the black front door and smiling a goofy smile at the diminutive woman who had just opened it. She had to be at least eighteen inches shorter than Connor and probably a hundred and fifty pounds lighter, but it was already obvious to Naomi that Connor adored her. “And there she is. Hey, Alice,” he said. “Here’s Naomi come to stay with us.”

  “Hello.” Alice stuck out her hand. “I’m Alice Connor, and it’s lovely to meet you. We adored Saul.”

  Naomi braced herself for additional words of sympathy that weren’t forthcoming. She released the breath she’d been unaware she was holding and smiled at Alice, instinctively liking her and respecting the fact that she didn’t feel the need to gush.

  “Thanks,” she said, shaking Alice’s hand.

  “Come along in, and I’ll show you to your room. I expect you’d like something to eat and drink. Airline food is not for the discerning traveler.”

  “That’s certainly true.”

  Naomi was filled with curiosity about the interior of a house she hoped would tell her a great deal about its owners. She expected an ostentatious display of wealth. Wasn’t that how new money did things? Instead she found it had been sympathetically restored, with obviously original ceiling moldings and wooden beams, carefully restored fireplaces, and modern light fittings that somehow seemed in keeping with the period. The décor was light and unfussy, as was the furniture, which she could tell was of good quality.

  “It’s Edwardian,” Alice said. “The boys bought it five years ago. It had been neglected for years and was in a right old state. They spent as much on restoring it as it cost them to buy it, and probably wouldn’t see a return on that investment if they tried to sell in today’s market. Not that they’re planning to sell it, as far as I know. They’ve created a haven where they can escape from the world and be themselves.”

  “And entertain in style,” Naomi said, thinking that was probably the point of it all.

  “Oh no,” Connor said. “They don’t invite people here.”

  Then why am I here?

  “I’ll take your bags up,” Connor said, running up the stairs two at a time as though her heavy suitcase weighed nothing at all.

  Alice and Naomi followed behind him more slowly. Alice led the way along a wide corridor and stopped at the door Connor had just disappeared through.

  “This is you,” she said, leading Naomi into a large but elegantly furnished bedroom with a four-poster bed and lightwood furniture. There was a pretty view of the grounds, which included two tennis courts−one hard, one grass−and she caught a glimpse of the sea in the distance. “The bath is through here,” Alice added, opening the door to a modern en suite stocked with just about everything Naomi was likely to need. “Make yourself comfortable and come down when you’re ready. I’ll whip you up something to eat.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble. Besides, it’s my job. Come on you,” she said, tapping Trafford’s head. “Naomi doesn’t need your company.”

  “I didn’t realize he was there,” Naomi replied. “He can move very quietly for a big beast.”

  “Oh, he’s impossible.” Alice twitched the dog’s ears affectionately. “He knows a soft touch when he sees one. He loved Saul, probably for that reason.”

  “Saul used to come here? I thought you said Jared and Kent don’t entertain.”

  “They don’t, but Saul was special. Well, you don’t need me to tell you that. Anyway, he often used to come and chill here when he was in England, before he got his own place in Wimbledon. His room’s just as he left it. I’ll show it to you later, in case there’s anything of his in it that you want to keep.”

  “Oh, I see.” But she didn’t—not really.

  “Right, well if you have everything you need, we’ll leave you to settle.”

  The Connors and Trafford took themselves off, closing the door softly behind them. Naomi was gripped by a sudden urge to call them back. She didn’t want to be alone. It sounded ridiculous, given that she’d just travelled across the Atlantic by herself and lived alone. But, of course, she hadn’t really been alone during the journey but surrounded by people the entire time, some of whom recognized her. Being famous in her own right, she was used to that, but she did wonder at people’s lack of sensitivity. Saul’s death was plastered all over the news on both sides of the pond. Did it not occur to them that she might appreciate a little privacy?

  There was a stultifying silence about the room she’d been allocated that was both soothing and disquieting. Suddenly the task she’d set herself to discover the truth about Saul’s death seemed daunting and rather arrogant. Surely, if there was anything to find, the powers that be would find it? She would make damned sure that they did.

  Before she could get maudlin, Naomi stripped off her clothes and turned on the taps in the walk-in shower stall. She stood beneath the jets for a long time, soaping her body all over with the expensive-looking gel provided. It revived her a little and some of the tiredness seeped from her bones. She dried herself with one of the large, fluffy bath towels hanging on the rack and examined her reflection with a critical eye. She looked gaunt, her eyes were red and puffy from all the crying she’d done, and there were dark circles beneath them.

  She shrugged, reminding herself she wasn’t trying to impress anyone, and turned to her bag. Connor had thoughtfully lifted it onto the stand provided, and she rummaged in it for clean underwear. Underwear was her weakness. She had endless pretty, lacy sets that had cost a fortune and made her feel good about herself. She pulled on a matching navy bra and thong and covered them with a long-sleeved top and a knee-length denim skirt. The clothes were probably too thick for the climate but she still couldn’t seem to get warm.

  Naomi released her hair from the clip that had held it up since leaving Miami. It tumbled around her shoulders and halfway down her back in a disorderly tangle of black curls. She brushed it out and left it as it was. Having it clipped up for so long had given her a headache. A little concealer beneath her eyes, a quick swish of masca
ra and lip gloss and she looked as good as she ever would.

  Back downstairs she was greeted by Trafford, who was laying at the bottom of the stairs, huge head resting on his equally huge front paws, as though lying in wait for her.

  “Hey, boy,” she said, offering him her hand.

  The wagging started up, as did the hand-licking thing. Trafford seemed to like her and trotted off ahead of her, showing her the way. She followed behind him along a corridor that passed several rooms with their doors open. She wanted to snoop but decided against it, at least for now. If Jared and Kent proved evasive, the snooping could come later. She hadn’t absolved them from responsibility in Saul’s death, even though it would have been cutting off the hand that fed them, so to speak.

  She knew they handled a lot of top-level sportsmen and women and that their agency had a good reputation. What she didn’t yet know was why Saul had received special treatment to the extent that he was invited to their home? This house must have been expensive to purchase, renovate and now maintain, she decided, her thoughts flitting from one subject to the next in no particular order. Had they really earned enough from their comparatively new agency to afford it outright, or were they involved with less legitimate activities that supplemented their income? And had they somehow involved trusting Saul in those activities—activities that got him killed?

  She reached a conservatory that spanned the entire width of the back of the house. She stopped dead in her tracks and gasped. She hadn’t expected anything like this. There was a fifty-foot swimming pool dominating it. It wasn’t a fancy pool with waterfalls and swim-up bars, but a serious pool with diving boards at different heights.

  “Someone likes to swim,” she said to Trafford.

  “That would be Kent,” Alice said, coming up behind her. “He was short-listed for the British Olympic team a few years back but never quite made it. He’s still pretty impressive in the water though, and you should see him dive. Now come and sit down and I’ll bring you a sandwich.”

  Naomi was led to a comfortable arrangement of seats at one end of the conservatory. There was also a fully stocked bar, she noticed, and the room was crowded with tropical plants that gave off a heady perfume. This wasn’t for show, she sensed, but a room that was well-used and enjoyed.

  “The boys added this when they renovated the house,” Alice said. “They practically live out here year round.”

  “I can understand why.”

  “I’ll just be a minute.”

  Alice disappeared but Naomi wasn’t alone. Trafford flopped down at her feet and rested his head on them. She’d probably lose all feeling in her toes if he stayed there for long, but she found his presence comforting and didn’t try to move him off. Instead she reached down and scratched his ears. The dog responded by flapping his tail against the tiled floor. Naomi felt strangely at peace and closed her eyes. She must have dropped off to sleep but was woken by Alice placing a plate on the table beside her.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “It’s all right. You didn’t, not really.”

  “I’ve made you a sandwich but wasn’t sure what you would like to drink. Tea, coffee, juice, soda, wine?”

  “Green tea would be lovely, if you have it.”

  “We have it.”

  Naomi couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, and yet she still wasn’t hungry. But Alice had gone to the trouble of making her something so she ought to give it a go. She picked, slowly at first, at the open sandwich of tuna, sweet corn, and she wasn’t sure what else. It was delicious. Her stomach growled in appreciation and before she knew it she’d cleared the entire plate.

  “Wow, you were hungry,” Alice said, returning with her tea.

  “That was lovely. I didn’t…” Trafford jumped up and started running around in circles, chasing his tail and barking. “He’s our early warning system,” Alice said, laughing. “The boys must be back.”

  Before Naomi could formulate a response, she sensed a presence behind her but was strangely reluctant to turn her head. She did so slowly and a small gasp slipped past her guard. Two of the most stunningly glamorous men she had ever seen stood there, ties loosened, jackets casually thrown over their shoulders, smiling at her.

  “Hey, Naomi,” said the dark-haired one. Jared. “Welcome to Farafield.”

  Chapter Three

  Jared felt as though he’d been slammed in the gut by a fist bigger than Connor’s. The moment he clapped eyes on their visitor the air left his lungs in an extravagant whoosh and it was a moment before he could string an intelligible sentence together. Trafford was jumping all over the place and Jared absently stroked his head, but his focus was fixed upon Naomi Redford. She looked so much like her brother—even with eyes swollen from crying and the tiredness that came with an overnight flight—that the loss of Saul hit him afresh. So did something else. He glanced at Kent and knew he was similarly afflicted. It took a lot to silence his loquacious partner, but the sight of Naomi had him tongue-tied and gawping like a gauche teenager.

  Black hair tumbled around her shoulders as she looked up at them through large, sloping eyes a deep, rich shade of brown. They were housed in a delicate face with high cheekbones, a flawless complexion and a wide, lush mouth that he couldn’t seem to stop staring at. Sadness shrouded her, lending her an air of vulnerability that would make any red-blooded male go that extra mile for her.

  Saul had always maintained she was the tougher sibling. Right now she looked as though a strong gust of wind would knock her right off her feet. She was slender—a little too slender. Well, that was to be expected. She was a world-famous model, but the enticing curves a lot of models lacked were a very welcome surprise. Jared’s reaction to her was as inappropriate as it was inevitable.

  Shit, they were in trouble!

  She stood up and flashed a brief smile. Fuck, this just got worse by the minute. She was probably five-eight, had shapely legs that refused to quit, leading to a tight little backside that set Jared salivating. Her expression changed from wary to suspicious, which is when he realized he was gaping at her, probably with his mouth hanging open. She must get that reaction all the time, and it brought Jared to his senses.

  “Hey,” he said, stepping forward, hand outstretched. “Has Alice been looking after you?”

  “Yes, thanks. And Trafford here.”

  He took her hand in his and felt a frisson of awareness rock him. “Trafford is a sorry excuse for a guard dog, but we love him anyway.”

  When she smiled Jared was nearly reduced to a quivering wreck. That smile lit up her entire face, making her appear even more exotic, momentarily wiping away her despair.

  “I can quite understand why.”

  Kent stepped forward and took his turn to shake her hand.

  “I’m Kent,” he said. “Welcome. Wish it was under different circumstances.”

  “Yes.”

  Her smile faded and she abruptly resumed her seat. Way to go, Kent. Not that he could blame his mate, exactly. They had to talk about Saul and it made sense to break the ice.

  “You sure you don’t need to sleep a while?” Kent asked.

  “No, I couldn’t. I’ll catch an early night and try to adjust my body clock that way.’

  “That works best, if you can do it,” Jared said.

  “I have before.”

  “Of course, you’ve travelled the world modelling and I’m betting the camera loves you,” Kent said.

  “Not any more. I’ve decided to give it up.”

  “Look, we’ll leave you to your tea and change out of this gear,” Jared said into the uncomfortable silence that ensued, gesturing toward his suit. “Won’t be above a minute, then we can talk, if you’d like.”

  “That’s what I came here to do.”

  The light of battle gleamed in her eyes, as though she didn’t quite trust them. Jared couldn’t blame her for that, but hoped to convince her they were on the same side. He and Kent headed for the stairs. Surpris
ingly, Trafford didn’t follow them. Well, perhaps not so surprisingly. He was smitten, too.

  “Shit,” Kent said as soon as they were out of her earshot.

  “My sentiments entirely,” Jared agreed, grimacing. Shit, when had shaking a woman’s hand last given him a hard-on?

  “How are we gonna play this?”

  “Same way we always intended to. We need to find out why Saul died and give her some closure. We also need to protect her from her father and step-brothers and help her through this without forcing our lecherous selves upon her. She probably gets that all the time.”

  “Christ, you don’t want much, do you?”

  Jared emitted a mirthless chuckle. “I knew she was a pretty lady, but I had no idea…I mean, the pictures we’ve seen don’t do her justice.”

  “I hear you,” Kent replied, groaning as he disappeared into his room. “Fuck, do I hear you.”

  * * * *

  “Well,” Naomi said, scratching Trafford’s ears. “What am I supposed to make of those two alpha males?”

  Trafford was stingy with his advice, making do with rolling on his back and offering up his belly for scratching. Naomi laughed as she obliged. It was a hollow sound that echoed around the cavernous conservatory and bounced back at her almost accusingly, as though reminding her she had no reason to laugh. Like she could forget that. She took a deep, calming breath, telling herself she was used to mixing with beautiful people, and they were often the worst offenders when it came to using their looks to get what they wanted. The world wasn’t a fair place and good looking people were almost never suspected of duplicity, like happening to be born fair of face made them upstanding citizens.

  She stood up and stared out at the gardens, her back to the door, trying to untangle her jumbled thoughts, lost in reflection.

  “You okay?”

  Startled, she turned to face Jared. He was now dressed in tight-fitting black jeans that hugged his butt and a plain black T-shirt. His feet were bare, hence her not having heard him approach. He had very nice feet, she thought, annoyed that she should notice something so inconsequential. Hell, everything about him was very nice, but that wasn’t the point. Beauty was definitely only skin deep. She, of all people, ought to know that.