Page 20 of Doubly Claimed

Chapter 7

She swallowed whatever was in her mouth, followed by a big sip of wine. Both men were turning her on by eating, for pity’s sake. She was hopeless. Her sisters always said she had a bizarre outlook on life. What if it scared them away?

Damn. She couldn’t help it, she wanted them both. She was so turned on she was practically soaking her panties. Rubbing her wrist absently, she looked down at her bracelet. It was warming up against her wrist again. Must be some sort of crappy metal, she thought, and fiddled with the thing. Even that couldn’t distract her from the genuine issue. Two hot guys, one her.

“Can I get you anything else?”

How about a Ginger sandwich? she wanted to ask, but just shook her head instead. Both men seemed to move closer. Though she wasn’t a master at reading signs, she had to admit it seemed like they both wanted her.

Did she have to make a choice? It wasn’t likely they’d want to share. Hell, they probably didn’t really want her. Crap. Where were her sisters? They could usually talk her down when she got like this. If she wasn’t careful, Ginger was bound to do something stupid. Like jump on the two of them.

Shit. What to do to save herself the embarrassment of being turned down by one or both men? She should just excuse herself and run away.

Then again, they didn’t seem to mind sitting and chatting with her in public, and neither seemed to feel envious of the other’s attentions to her. In fact, they seemed to enjoy themselves with her. Feelings she more than reciprocated. Who wouldn’t? They were gorgeous, if growly.

“How about we take a stroll, love?” green eyes asked.

“Yes, a walk on the beach perhaps?” the second, larger man, seconded. “Get ourselves better acquainted?”

Ginger waited a beat for alarm bells to sound off inside her head. Daddy always told her she needed to listen to her inner voice when she met strangers, and her sisters had reinforced that lesson periodically throughout her teen, college, and adult life. But Ginger didn’t hear any warning sounds, just the steady thundering of her heart.

“Sure.” Ginger licked her lips and this time both men followed the movement closely. “A walk sounds great, but first don’t you think you should tell me your names?”

“Shit,” the big one grumbled, and wiped a hand over his face.

“Of course, we apologize.” The green-eyed charmer tilted her face to his with a gentle tug on her chin with one long finger. “I’m Constantine Ross, but everyone just calls me Ross.”

His thousand-watt smile practically blinded her, but she held his gaze. He was remarkably handsome. Like one of those boy-faced models with high cheekbones and sensuous lips, but he was all man. It was right there in his emerald gaze. There was something almost preen-ish or cocksure in his manner, but he wasn’t conceited.

Just looking for some attention. Hers, apparently, and she was more than happy to give it. But would he be satisfied with someone like her? A preschool teacher with a serious book addiction from a small town in Jersey? If only his mouth didn’t look so damn kissable.

Down hormones! She couldn’t expect either of them to just haul her off to his cave and have his wicked way with her. Of course, she really wanted both of them to do that.

Sigh. Her naughty tendencies were going to be the death of her. Or the cause of her greatest frustration ever.

Then Ross leaned in and inhaled a deep breath. Eyes flashing, he smiled at her. A touch of wicked in that grin, and immediately, those nerves that were fluttering around her tummy calmed. The steady circling movement of his thumb on her wrist brought her attention to the fact he was touching her, branding her with that simple, tiny motion.

“Have I told you, you look beautiful tonight?” he asked, and Ginger practically melted. Especially when she felt his friend’s big, warm body surround her as he leaned in from the opposite side. The bigger man smelled incredible. It was a deep woodsy scent, like a forest on a frosty winter morning. He smelled good. The way his muscled chest pressed against her side felt even better.

“Ginger, love,” Ross said, “this is Mikhail Orson.”

“Misha,” the big man corrected. “Call me Misha.”

“Alright.” She licked her suddenly dry lips again, and met his golden stare.

Need vibrated through her body. She might be a soon-to-be-unemployed pre-school teacher, but she was also a woman. A woman with needs. This was her shot, she realized, and it might be her only one. Ginger was going to take it.

Both men were intent on her. So, before she could talk herself out of it, she opened her mouth.

“Misha, Ross, how about we take that walk now?”

They both jumped out of their seats, practically upending her own chair, but that didn’t happen. Misha had her standing up and by his side in a fury of movement that left her breathless.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

She was too shocked to do more than nod. Ross opened his hand, and she paused a moment. Did he want to hold hands with her? It was a sweet and innocent token of esteem. Something people hardly did these days, and she readily accepted it. His warm hand was so much bigger than hers, so strong and sure. He seemed to growl with pleasure at the touch.

Ginger wasn’t sure what that meant. Only that it felt good, natural to have Misha’s hand on the small of her back in an almost protective gesture, and Ross cradling hers as if it were something to be cherished.

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