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hands frantically down its sleeves.
    â€œJason sent me.”
    She froze. “Like hell,” she muttered, her black eyes disbelieving. The robe still gaped enough so he had a view of the hollow between her breasts.
    Zach’s throat closed in on itself and he prayed to God that his voice didn’t squeak. “He’s still at Dad’s party and—”
    â€œDad’s?”
    â€œI’m his brother, Zachary.” He started to stick out his hand, knew it to be a mistake and wished he could just drop dead of a heart attack. She was a hooker, for God’s sake, a professional, and he was a bumbling, tongue-tied, green, virgin! She could probably smell it.
    Suspicion lingered on her features. “You don’t look like him.”
    The bane of Zach’s existence. “I know.” Still he didn’t move.
    â€œClose the door.”
    Zach kicked it closed but didn’t bother with the bolt.
    Scooting closer to the headboard, trying to hold the robe closed over her skin, looking as if she might bolt for the door at any minute, she asked, “Why’d he send you?” She tossed a thick rope of coal-black hair off her face. “Jesus, you scared the living shit out of me.”
    â€œI didn’t mean to.”
    â€œWell, come in,” she ordered, obviously agitated.
    Carefully, afraid she might jump up and run down the hall screaming rape, he walked across the orange carpet and eased himself onto the foot of the bed.
    â€œJason sent you?” she asked, reaching onto the nightstand for a crumpled pack of cigarettes propped against a half-finished drink. She shook out an unfiltered Pall Mall and her hands only trembled a little as she struck a match and lit up. “Why?”
    â€œHe, um, he had to stick around. Dad wanted him there.”
    She arched a fine black brow as she drew on her cigarette again and finally lifted it from her lips. “But he didn’t want you?” she asked skeptically.
    â€œJason’s the oldest,” Zach said, as if it explained everything, which it did. Jason had been groomed from the day he was born to be heir to the Danvers fortune. Nothing had changed just because Witt had sired a second son.
    The hooker smiled. “So he’s the favorite.”
    â€œLondon’s the old man’s favorite.”
    â€œAhh. Jason’s talked about her. The little kid. What is she, about three?’
    â€œAlmost five.” Zach didn’t see that London’s age mattered at all, especially considering the situation. He was in a hotel room with a prostitute and they were discussing his baby sister! Well, hadn’t Jason said she liked to talk? Somehow he’d expected the conversation to be a little more sensual.
    Sophia set her cigarette in the ashtray on the bedstand, then picked up her drink. Swirling the melting ice cubes with one long finger, she stared at Zach, letting her eyes rove up his half-buttoned shirt to his windblown hair.
    â€œJason wants you to take his place?”
    â€œThat seemed to be the plan.”
    She took a swallow from her glass and the tip of her tongue rimmed her wet lips. “Are you a virgin, Zachary?”
    The question hit him like a slap in the face. “Of course not.”
    â€œMmm. Then you’ve had…a lot of women?” She sipped her drink, trying to smother a smile.
    â€œMy share,” he said, realizing that they both knew he was lying. Hell, what did you say to a prostitute when she asked you things like that?
    â€œYou ever had a blow job?”
    His head snapped up. Was she for real, or was she teasing him? He stared straight into her dark eyes and wondered if she was laughing at him. His gut tightened as she set the glass on the night table, allowing the robe to gape open and reveal her breasts. He couldn’t help but stare.
    He was already beginning to get hard, but he didn’t try to hide his erection. The robe fell off one of her shoulders and