Excerpt

Excerpt: The Mediator

Twenty-four hours. One big house and two hot men. No big deal.

I shrugged off Michael’s jacket and stole a glimpse of his zipper region. If the rumors were true, those were no rolled up socks in there.

I sucked in air and handed him the jacket. “Thanks again.”

He turned to find a coat hanger, while Cal took my arm to guide me into a hall.

We stopped at the threshold. Tall candles in holders provided the only illumination, shining light onto a thirty foot table.

That sure looked like a date to me.

Three sets of plates and silverware were already laid out at one end of the table, with bowls of steaming veg and meat in the center. Wow, the smell was fantastic. Like rich gravy and sweet carrots and home.

But then, I was starved. The only food I’d had all day were two bottles of wine, and some might argue that wine wasn’t food at all.

“Guess we’re overdressed, huh?” I pointed at the posh red wallpaper and high ceilings, the humongous fireplace in which a fire crackled, and the sumptuous chairs.

Cal glanced down at his black shirt, top buttons open, and his tight leather pants.

Crap. Another sock-like bulge.

“Maybe we should take our clothes off.” He grinned. “There’s no rule about having dessert first.”

I sucked in a jagged breath, but rolled my eyes to overplay the rising dampness in my panties. “Please. You should have more control than that.”

Michael stepped up and offered me his arm on my left.

I hooked in, perhaps clinging a little too tight, but he didn’t complain.

In fact, he didn’t seem like a complicated guy at all.

Callister was the drama queen in that pairing. I didn’t have to glance over my shoulder to know his bottom lip was pushed out like a toddler’s being denied its toy.

Except I wasn’t his toy.

Why was it so difficult to keep a cool head? The sec I laid eyes on them, a switch inside me flicked. Some inexplicable compulsion drove me to stay by their sides.

Or more likely, good old-fashioned lust.

I may not have a type, but these two were definitely it.

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