Nathan's hormones did the quick, instinctive dance that made him want to laugh at both of them. A gorgeous piece of fluff was his first impression, but he revised it when he took a good look into her eyes.
They were sharp and very self-aware. "He took pity on an old friend," Nathan told her.
"Really." she liked the rough-edged look of him, and pleased herself by basking in the easy male approval on his face. "Well, then, Brian, introduce me to your old friend. I didn't know you had any."
"Nathan Delaney," Brian said shortly, going over to fetch the second pot of freshly brewed coffee. "My kid sister, Lexy."
"Nathan." Lexy offered a hand she'd manicured in Flame Red. "Brian still sees me in pigtails."
"Big brother's privilege." It surprised Nathan to find the siren's hand firm and capable. "Actually, I remember you in pigtails myself"
"Do you?" Mildly disappointed that he hadn't lingered over her hand, Lexy folded her elbows on the bar and leaned toward him. "I can't believe I've forgotten you. I make it a policy to remember all the attractive men who've come into my life. However briefly."
"You were barely out of diapers," Brian put in, his voice dripping sarcasm, "and hadn't polished your femme-fatale routine yet. Cheese and mushroom omelettes are the breakfast special," he told her, ignoring the vicious look she shot in his direction.
she caught herself before she snarled, made her lips curve up. "Thanks, sugar." she purred it as she took the coffeepot he thrust at her, then she fluttered her lashes at Nathan. "Don't be a stranger. We get so few interesting men on Desire."
Because it seemed foolish to resist the treat, and she seemed so obviously to expect it, Nathan watched her sashay out, then turned back to Brian with a slow grin. "That's some baby sister you've got there, Bri."
"she needs a good walloping. Coming on to strange men that way."
"It was a nice side dish with my omelette." But Nathan held up a hand as Brian's eyes went hot. "Don't worry about me, pal. That kind of heartthrob means major headaches. I've got enough problems. You can bet your ass I'll look, but I don't plan to touch."
"None of my business," Brian muttered. "she's bound and determined not just to look for trouble but to find it."
"Women who look like that usually slide their way out of it too."
He swiveled when the door opened again. This time it was Jo who walked through it.
And women who look like that, Nathan thought, don't slide out of trouble. They punch their way out.
He wondered why he preferred that kind of woman, and that kind of method.
Jo stopped when she saw him. Her brows drew together before she deliberately smoothed her forehead. "You look right at home, Mr. Delaney."
"Feeling that way, Miss Hathaway."
"Well, that's pretty formal," Brian commented as he reached for a clean mug, "for a guy who pushed her into the river, then got a bloody lip for his trouble when he tried to fish her out again."
"I didn't push her in." Nathan smiled slowly as he watched Jo's brows knit again. "she slipped. But she did bloody my lip and call me a Yankee pig bastard, as I recall."
The memory circled around her mind, nearly skipped away, then popped clear. Hot summer afternoon, the shock of cool water, head going under. And coming up swinging. "You're Mr. David's boy." The warmth spread in her stomach and up to her heart. For a moment her eyes reflected it and made his pulse trip. "Which one?"
"Nathan, the older."
" Of course." she skimmed her hair back, not with the studied seductiveness of her sister but with absentminded impatience. "And you did push me. I never fell in the river unless I wanted to or was helped along."
"You slipped," Nathan corrected, "then I helped you along."
she laughed, a quick, rich chuckle, then took the mug Brian offered. "I suppose I can let bygones be, since I gave you a fat lip-and your father gave me the world."
Nathan's head began to throb, fast and vicious. "My father?"
'-I dogged him like a shadow, pestered him mercilessly about how he took pictures, why he took the ones he did, how the camera worked. He was so patient with me. I must have been driving him crazy, interrupting his work that way, but he never shooed me away. He taught me so much, not just the basics but how to look and how to see. I suppose I owe him for every photograph I've ever taken."
The breakfast he'd just eaten churned greasily in his stomach. "You're a professional photographer?"
"Jo's a big-deal photographer," Lexy said with a bite in her voice as she came back in. "The globe-trotting J. E. Hathaway, snapping her pictures of other people's lives as she goes. Two omelettes, Brian, two sides of hash browns, one bacon, one sausage. Room's having breakfast, Miss World Traveler. You've got beds to strip."