Mine by Brenda Huber Read Free Book Online Page B

much the mere idea of this project had shaken her up.
    That legendary Sinclair steel stiffened her spine.
    Her grandfather would have been proud…even if Lily wasn’t. Alex drew a deep breath, and took the last few steps around the back corner of the house.
    She froze, appalled.
    There were women everywhere . In the pool, lounging beside it, dancing on the patio, draped across the bar. They were… everywhere . Not a one of them wore enough to allow a Barbie the slimmest illusion of modesty.
    To think, she’d been concerned she was underdressed. It took her a moment to find the men in the bevy of buxom beauties. There weren’t 44

     

    many.
    A tall, sleek man with long, scruffy black hair leaned casually against the bar with a busty blonde tucked beneath each arm. Another man sporting a blond crew cut and boyishly charming good looks lounged on a chaise by the pool, cuddling a little brunette on his lap while he nuzzled his face against the swell of her over-ripe breasts. She writhed in his arms in a poor imitation of a lap dance.
    Alex shot the couple a look of disgust. Hope he asks for his money back…
    Across the way, two men sat inside a gazebo, absorbed with a massive flat screen TV. They cheered as players streaked across the display, groaning intercepted plays and cursing fumbled balls. The women didn’t seem interested in interrupting the male bonding session. Alex couldn’t say as she blamed them. She’d rather have teeth pulled—minus the anesthetic—than get anywhere near that gazebo.
    Chewing the edge of her lower lip, she searched for someone who looked even remotely responsible. She came up sadly empty-handed.
    Drawing herself up, she sucking in a deep, grim breath . Bar-guy it is.
    Then, as she took a bleak step forward, another man pushed through the ornate French doors. All but jogging across the patio, he vigilantly shielded his face from the sunlight with his forearm. He was slightly shorter than the others…but extremely muscular. Silky hair the color of fine rich sable flowed to his shoulders, unbound. His skin glistened a dusky olive. An expertly trimmed goatee gave him an iniquitous air, alluring and faintly sinister. He looked like a matador minus the props of cape and bull.
    Zeroing in on the likely, unclaimed target, 45
     

     
    Alex made a beeline for the newcomer. “Excuse me…”
    The crash of drums and roar of guitar from hidden speakers were too loud. He gave no indication he’d noticed her. Forced to repeat herself at a near yell, she instantly gained the attention of every person in the back yard—with the exception of the two sports enthusiasts, of course, who continued to whoop and heckle.
    Forcing a swallow, pasting on a cool smile, Alex stepped in front of the dark, attractive man.
    A wide grin spread over the sensual curve of his lips. Eyes the color of smoky amber swept down the length of her with blatant interest.
    Tall, dark, and dangerous purred, “Hel- lo, Slim.”
    Alex bit the inside of her lip. Oh, God, please don’t let this be Gunnarrson, please, please, please. Not with that attitude. She thrust her hand forward, stiff with formality. “I’m Alex Sinclair. I’m looking for Mr. Gunnarrson.” Intrigued curiosity spiked through his amber stare. Offering her a rueful smile, he enveloped her hand in his. “That bastard always gets the best ones.”
    Alex’s eyes flared. She shook her head, impatient to clear the air. “No, you don’t understand. I’m here because I’m—”
    “I know who you are.” He refused to relinquish her hand; instead, he tucked it gallantly in the crook of his arm, shooting her a mysterious, wicked grin. Just the slightest hint of a Spanish accent colored his speech as he steered her inside the house. “I’m Styx, by the way. Like the river, not the wood.”
    “It’s a—a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Styx.” Alex granted him a tight, guarded smile.
    “No mister, just Styx.” Speculative, Styx tilted 46

     

    his head and