She had just been there temporarily because she liked working on cars. It wasn’t a job she needed to feed her family and she wasn’t going to be responsible for having a man with a family fired because he was offended by a “girl,” as they called her, doing their job.

Pulling on one of the summer-thin camisole-and-shorts pajamas she preferred, Eve moved to the balcony doors she’d slipped through earlier and opened one side quietly. The bed-and-breakfast had a full house for the next few weeks, though several of the rooms had been rented for more than two years now by three guests who often gave their free time to Mercedes to do odd jobs around the inn. Her mother greatly reduced the amount of their stay in return, and one to two days a week the three men took care of repairs needed in and outside the inn as well as yard work.

The one beside her was one of them.

Stepping outside, she moved to the oval wicker chair hanging from beneath the second floor wraparound balcony, with its thick, fluffy cushions and curled into it with a weary sigh.

She was exhausted, but she’d never go to sleep easily if she went to bed now.

Why couldn’t she be one of those people that dropped right off to sleep? Instead, she spent far too long staring up at the ceiling or with her eyes closed, fighting for peace. Or far too many sensations raced through her body, demanding satisfaction, as they were tonight.

As they had been since the first hour on the job that night, when Brogan Campbell had walked into the bar.

It was that arrogant swagger that made him so tempting. Or maybe it was that slightly tilted curve to his lips. As though he saw beneath the facades of those he talked to and was amused by the deceptions they practiced.

It sure couldn’t be that red-gold hair with all the sunlit and burnished brown highlights it held that framed his hard-hewn face and tempted her to touch it to see if it was as warm as it looked. And it couldn’t be the arrogance in those icy gray-blue eyes, or the subtle darkening that always affected them whenever she caught his gaze.

Whatever it was, the second he’d entered the bar that night she’d known it.

She’d known it and responded to him.

Her breasts had swelled, her nipples becoming hard and peaked as her skin seemed to sensitize. She became so aware of the sensitive folds between her thighs that she felt them dampening, felt the slick juices as they made their way along the tender tissue of her vagina to ease out along the lips beyond.

She had become so horny so fast she’d almost dropped the tray of drinks she’d been carrying.

That was the effect Brogan had on her. And knowing he was sleeping in the suite next to hers didn’t help matters, because she knew—knew beyond a shadow of a doubt—that he wanted her as well.

That was the reason she was working the job that would bring her home at the latest possible hour and work her the hardest. Unfortunately it wasn’t working her hard enough, evidently.

“Eve. Hey, Eve, you there?”

Eve glanced up at the bottom of the balcony at the sound of her sister Lyrica’s voice hissing from above.

“You’re supposed to be asleep, Lyrica.” She grinned, keeping her voice soft as she answered her.

“Oh, great, that was you I heard drive up.” Her sister’s loud whisper was followed by the sight of a slender foot bracing on the outside of the balcony railing.

A second later the other foot joined it; then her sister was reaching for the thick post next to her and shimmying down it like a pro. Hell, she was a pro. All three of Eve’s sisters were. They’d learned early how to slip from the house and make the most of a perfectly good summer night.

They hadn’t fooled their mother, though. It never failed that their brother, Dawg, or one of their cousins, Rowdy or Natches, or one of their friends would find them after an hour or so and escort them home. They were never out long enough to get into trouble, but always long enough to satisfy the thrill of escaping for a while.

Lyrica dropped from the lower balcony railing, barefoot, dressed as Eve was in a pair of shorty pajama bottoms and a snug camisole.

Her long black hair was twisted into a braid behind her as she leaned back against the rail she had just jumped from, her hands gripping the vinyl-covered railing.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping Mom with breakfast in the morning?” she asked her sister.

“Well, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Lyrica tucked a stray strand of black hair behind her ear as she shifted on her feet and smiled back at Eve brightly. “I was hoping I could get you to cover for me.”

Eve’s brow lifted in doubtful surprise. “Did you even notice what time I came in tonight, or what time it is now?”

“Yeah, you came in at two thirty and it’s now ten after three.” She waved the time away. “Come on, Eve; it’s really important. I know you won’t get much sleep—”

“Try no sleep,” Eve reminded her. “What would be the point of going to sleep if I just have to get up again in less than two hours?”

“I know; that will so suck.” Lyrica pouted as she brushed another strand of hair back and shifted on her bare feet again. “So you’ll do it for me?”

“I didn’t say that.” Eve laughed. “I said what would be the point of going to sleep if I were to do that? And I have to be back at the bar at six tomorrow evening. I’m closing with Matteo, so I’ll be even later getting home. I’ll need some sleep.”

“Come on, Eve; you can get to bed before noon, and that will easily give you five hours’ sleep.”

“And I easily need eight,” Eve pointed out. “What’s so important on a Saturday that you can’t help Mom and Piper with breakfast?”

Lyrica blew out a heavy breath, her head tilting to the side as she gazed down at the boards of the porch. A second later, her gaze lifted as she stared back at Eve. And Eve knew that look. Her younger sister was considering the best way to work her oldest sister to get what she wanted.

“Tell me why,” Eve bargained. “Otherwise I’m going to bed. Like I said, I have to help Matteo close the bar, and I need my sleep if this isn’t important.”

“Maybe it’s just important to me.” Lyrica shrugged. “I was invited to go with some friends to Louisville for a spa day.”

Her expression became animated, her voice filling with excitement. “Massages, a mani and a pedi, and being spoiled and rubbed and oiled for hours and hours.” Lyrica was all but jumping in anticipation. “Please, Eve, pretty please cover for me. I can’t just slip off and leave Momma a hand short. Piper would kill me if I did that.”

Because then Piper would have the majority of the work in the kitchen as their mother fixed coffee, set the long dining room table, and made fresh-squeezed orange juice and the fruit bowls for the guests who came down early to catch the news, read the paper, or just socialize as they checked e-mail before breakfast.

Piper would get together the individual orders that were turned in the night before, prepare all the ingredients as well as the plates and silverware. She would have to do all the cooking and carry all the food out as well if her mother didn’t finish early to help her. And normally it was impossible to finish one job early to help someone else with another when all the rooms were rented out. Lyrica wasn’t even lucky enough that most of the rooms only held a single guest. With the exception of the three long term guests, it was couples.

Eve’s suite didn’t count. It was a smaller suite. The other side was a pantry connected to the kitchen and the large laundry room with two heavy-duty stacking washers and dryers that were used by guests as well as their mother to wash the bedcoverings in.

“So I’m supposed to give up eight hours of sleep so you can go have a girls’ day?” she asked.

“Come on, Eve. The invitation came from Kyleene Brock. I’ve been trying to make friends with her for months now.”