“I guess you did.”

Ressa stared at her watered down coffee for a long, long moment. “It took a long, long time.”

“Sometimes that’s how it works.”

Silence fell between them as they drank their coffee under the shade of the tree, the day growing hotter and brighter around them. It was probably a good five minutes before he spoke again. “You know, I never go to this branch.”

Thankful for the change in subject, she smiled at him over her cup. “You’re more than welcome to come. And . . . for the record, you’ve been invited—an open invite to any of the branches. More than once.”

“Uhhhh. . . .”

Ressa laughed, the embarrassed look on his face delighting her. “Hey, don’t freak out on me. My boss would love to have you come visit—naturally, she’d prefer if you came to the main branch, but any of them would make her day. Her month. Her life.” She winked at him. Then she looked down. “I . . . uh. Well, I was supposed to try to talk you into it if I had the chance in New Jersey, but it didn’t ever work out. Seems like you’re not big on public stuff anyway.”

*   *   *

He’d put a shadow in her eyes.

He wanted to take it back, but at the same time, he realized if they were going to try for . . . coffee or anything else, shadows came with it.

Now she was smiling at him again and he wanted to see her smile, then laugh.

And he wanted to kiss her.

The longer he sat there, the more he wanted to kiss her. The more she breathed, the more he wanted to close the distance between them and cup her face in his hands, take that wide, lush mouth with his and just . . . have.

Just have.

Take.

Give.

Because he knew he’d give in to temptation if he kept staring at her, he dragged his attention away and focused on the pigeons gathering near one of the windows.

“It’s not the public thing that bothers me, really.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not too crazy about doing anything where I live, just . . . well, it feels weird. But up until recently it was more of a matter that I just . . . can’t. Couldn’t.”

“Clayton.”

Her understanding, so softly spoken, was just another tug toward her, another strand in a tangled web he could feel spinning around them both. Reaching up to tug his sunglasses off, he dropped them on the concrete and rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah. Clayton. We don’t have family here. My family would come if I called—man, my mother would be overjoyed. She’d probably do backflips. And Travis—my twin—he comes out as often as his job lets him. The others would help if they could . . .” Then, abruptly, he laughed. “Maybe not Seb. He’s a good kid, but he’s not quite ready to handle the responsibility of taking care of himself, much less my son.”

“I have to say this, just once.” Ressa puffed out her cheeks and then heaved out a heavy breath. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here next to a guy who refers to Sebastian Barnes as a good kid. Man, Mama Ang practically drools when she sees his name anymore. But he’s a good kid.”

Trey slid her a sly look from the corner of his eye. “Well, as long as it’s her drooling, and not you. Gotta say, I’m not too fond of the idea of you drooling over my baby brother.”

“Well.” She winked at him. “He’s prettier, but I think you’re way sexier.”

“Seb is pretty,” Trey agreed. “And he knows it. Any woman who takes him on is going to have to be prepared to fight him for counter space and her fair share of time in front of the mirror.”

The low laugh that escaped her settled down low in his belly, adding fuel to the fire that was already licking through him. Sliding a little closer, he reached up, toyed with one of the fat, round curls spilling down her neck and shoulders. “Vain. A man that pretty is going to be vain. I’m not surprised.”

“Oh, he’s a peacock,” Trey said, nodding. “But Zach’s just as pretty as Sebastian is. He’s not a peacock.”

“Zach . . . he’s got some pretty ink.”

“Ressa . . .”

You’re getting ready to complicate things. It was a resounding echo in the back of his head, one that echoed and echoed and echoed as he lifted a hand to cup her cheek.

“Yeah?”

Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. “Quit talking about my brothers. Matter of fact, don’t think about them . . . forget what they look like.”

“And why would I want to do that?” She murmured the words against his mouth.

“Because I’d rather you just think about me.” He kissed her then.

She opened for him on a moan, her mouth parting as his lips covered hers and he had to do that, too, take advantage and slide his tongue inside, tasting vanilla, coffee . . . and under that, her . . . the taste that had haunted him for the past five weeks.

How did one night turn into such an addiction?

He didn’t know, but it had.

Before he could forget where he was, he pulled back, lingering long enough to press his brow to hers. “You’re getting under my skin, Ressa Bliss. How are you doing this?”

Then he settled back as she blinked at him, her eyes wide, dazed.

He lifted a hand, stroked one finger over her lower lip. Then a slow smile curved her lips, and that smile had his blood pumping hot in his veins. And the look in her eyes—damn—that look, all lazy and lambent. He wanted to bite her, strip her naked, taste her everywhere he hadn’t—

“You’re under my skin, too, honey.” Then she sighed and looked away. “And that wasn’t something I was at all prepared for.”

He shifted on the brick wall, his erection becoming a painful—and noticeable—problem.

“So. Tell me about the other two.”

Half-formed thoughts faded into nothingness as he slid her a look. “Huh—oh. Well, there’s Zane. He’s the oldest.” He studied his coffee for a long moment. “He does photography . . . I think there’s going to be a wedding soon.”

“A wedding?”

He crooked a grin at her. “Yeah. Keelie . . . she works with Zach, the one with the pretty ink . . .” He gave her a playful snarl and she swatted him. “Zane’s been waiting—he does that. He watches. He waits. She finally figured it out. I hear they are like tripping over themselves happy in love.”

“That’s . . . sweet,” Ressa said after a moment. “Are you happy for them?”

“Yes.” He said it without hesitation, without reservation. “Zane’s always been that way. He’ll stand there, watch things, wait for things . . . he never really chased them and sometimes I wondered why, but I guess he had his own timetable. I don’t know Keelie as well as some of the others—I can’t travel to Tucson as often as some of them can, so I haven’t really gotten to know her that well, but if she makes Zane happy, that’s all I need to know.”

“And then there’s the other one . . . your twin, right?”

“You’ve been reading up on us.” He chuckled and shrugged. “You probably noticed you didn’t find much about him. He’s the odd one. Went into accounting.”

“You say that like he decided to stitch together cat skins for clothing and yodel naked on the streets while eating nothing but haggis and drinking only rotgut.” The glint in her eyes said she was clearly amused.

Trey laughed, shaking his head. “Well, accounting confuses me.” Then he shrugged. “I guess it shouldn’t seem so out of place. Mom was going to be a lawyer. Dad dealt with stocks before he retired. The rest of us . . . actors, photographer, writer . . . and there he is, crunching numbers.”

“He’s probably got the more stable occupation.” She wrinkled her nose. “And the most boring one. If it makes him happy . . . ?”

Happy. He shrugged. “Yeah. That’s the bottom line.” Which was the problem, really. Travis wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t like Trey could pull him out of it or anything, could he?

“You’re closest to him, aren’t you?”