The Lawson Boys: Marty Read online

  “Okay, we’ll get off engagement rings and onto weddings.” Cindy beamed. “Marcia went to Trevor’s wedding with you, didn’t she? Maybe that’s where she’s getting ring ideas.”

  Belle glanced at Marty, but he kept his gaze on the jug as he poured the juice into his glass.

  “She went with me, but she was just as quick to dump me to meet with her friends,” he said calmly.

  “I bet she was. That little scandal of Trevor’s was hot-wiring all over the city within minutes.”

  Marty caught Belle’s gaze. She stared helplessly at him for several seconds before looking down at the glass she was rotating slowly between her fingers.

  Oh please, don’t let anything come out now! She silently prayed. One more night and she’d be gone. Just one more night.

  “Trevor is an idiot,” Marty replied levelly. “He got what he deserved.”

  “It was only a matter of time,” Tim pointed out. “I’m surprised that you didn’t know about it earlier, Marty.”

  There was something in that sentence that had Belle’s gaze flying across the table to Marty. Was it her imagination or was there a slight tension about him?

  “I don’t know everything Trevor does,” Marty answered.

  “Being a friend of your’s, I just bet he was on the phone to you right after the wedding, wanting a sympathetic ear.” Tim laughed.

  The words hit Belle and she almost dropped the glass as she stared at Marty. So he was a friend of the groom’s, and undoubtedly had the inside story to boot. No wonder he’d been able to guess exactly what had occurred when Trevor had visited her.

  Mortified, she looked down at her plate, playing with the sandwich for which she’d just lost all appetite.

  “He was,” Marty admitted. “He didn’t get much sympathy, though.”

  “I hear the woman who slapped his lights out - God bless her, by the way - wasn’t his usual sort,” Cindy said, completely oblivious to Belle’s silence. “He’s not into BBWs.”

  “BBWs,” Tim mused. “Big Beautiful Women. I like that.”

  “You’re married to one,” Cindy reminded him dryly. “You better like it.”

  “Oh, sugar, I’ll show you just how much tonight.” Tim waggled his brows at her. “Or maybe this afternoon?”

  Mr Lawson cleared his throat.

  “Right.” Tim coughed and turned back to Marty.

  Swallowing the dry lump in her throat, Belle managed to fake polite interest in the conversation as any good guest would do. The only thing she couldn’t bring herself to do right then, was look at Marty.

  The low-life bastard. He’d known! And he’d been so bloody nice to her! Probably laughing at her the whole time. She wanted to rip his head off. And cry a bucketful. Instead, she raised her brows at Cindy in polite query.

  “Trevor likes his women on the slender side,” Cindy explained. “They look like models. Some of them are models. So when the word went around that the woman who’d finally caught out his cheating arse was a large woman, everyone was in shock. Those who saw her at the wedding say she was quite pretty, but a big girl, not his type at all.” Cindy’s eyes twinkled. “I think her shouting out that Trevor had taken her virginity only days before really made the gossips swoon in delight.”

  “I bet.” Belle managed not to slide under the table in sheer embarrassment.

  “I’d love to meet that lady.” Cindy looked at her brother. “You saw her, right? You were there. What did she look like?”

  Marty took several seconds to answer. “She was beautiful. You’d like her. She had fire.” His gaze slid to Belle, locking onto her with an intensity that was almost unnerving. “She was too good for an arse like Trevor. I just hope she knows that.”

  “I’m sure she does now,” Cindy said.

  Unable to maintain eye contact with Marty, Belle glanced down the table to find Tim watching her with a thoughtful expression on his face. That was dangerous. Beneath his fun-loving exterior the vet was a thinker, and if he thought too hard he’d soon put two and two together.

  Tim looked from her to Marty, and his eyes narrowed.

  Uh-oh. Time to put out that fire before it blazed into awareness.

  Setting down her glass, Belle looked at Mrs Lawson. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I’m afraid that I have to leave earlier than planned.”

  Mrs Lawson was genuinely dismayed. “Oh dear, why?”

  “Something personal at home came up.”

  “Your mother? Is she all right?”

  “Oh, Mum and Dad are fine. It’s just - it’s something. I can’t really discuss it, but I’m afraid I have to leave tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Marty echoed.

  “Oh.” Cindy was disappointed. “I was so looking forward to getting to know you.”

  “Yeah.” Tim scrutinized her.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Mr Lawson asked.

  “No, but thank you.” Belle smiled at him. “I really am sorry, and I thank you for everything.”

  “It’s been no trouble, we’ve enjoyed having you.” Mr Lawson assured her. “You’re welcome back anytime.”

  “Anytime,” Mrs Lawson agreed. “And next time you must bring your mother with you.”

  “Thank you.” Belle smiled around the table but when she saw Marty watching her with such intensity, she had to swallow a little nervously and glance away again.

  The rest of the meal passed pleasantly, though Marty was a lot quieter and spent most of the time talking business with his father while his sister, mother and brother-in-law chatted about everyday things. Belle offered a word here and there but mostly remained quiet.

  When Cindy and Tim finally prepared to leave, she bid them farewell and made her escape to her room. Closing the door behind her, she went straight across to the closet and dragged out her suitcase. Setting it on the bed, she stared at it for several long seconds before dropping down onto the bed beside it with a groan.

  Bloody Marty Lawson! He’d known. He’d known exactly what Trevor had done to her and not once had he even mentioned it. Not once. She felt like such a freakin’ fool. Again. Maybe she should just change her middle name to ‘Fool’. Belle Fool Broune, The freakin’ Other Woman.

  Resting her elbows on her knees, she stared down at the carpet and sighed. Men. They were currently the bane of her existence. Well, all except for her dad and Mr Lawson, they were okay. But as for the rest of them, led by Marty bloody Lawson, they could all go and hang themselves. She was done with them.

  Now she just wanted to go home and bury herself in work. Ride out the scandal and hope someone else in town did something stupid to take the gossip from her, then she could subside once more into her quiet little life. Her, her cat and her books. That was the life she wanted right now.

  Men did not rate in it, and certainly not men like Marty.

  Taking a deep breath, she sat up straight and rubbed her hands briskly up and down her thighs before standing up. The plan was to pack her suitcase and just leave out the bare essentials for tomorrow’s packing, then she was going to get a book and sit outside in the gardens for the rest of the afternoon. Lie low, basically. Everyone in the house was working, Mrs Lawson included, as she had a meeting this afternoon with some charity club, so Belle could pass the rest of the time in seclusion. It was a great plan.

  When the knock came at the door, she just knew it was Mrs Lawson come to check that she was all right. Instead, when she swung the door open who should be standing there but Mrs Lawson’s irritating, treacherous son with his hands in his pockets.

  He took one look at Belle’s face and raised a dark brow. “Ah.”

  “Go away.”

  “Running?”

  “Going home. Do you mind?” She looked pointedly down at his foot where it was placed firmly in the doorway, barring her effort to shut the door.

  “I do, actually,” he replied mildly.

  “Tough.”

  “Hmmm. I think you’re a little angry with me.”<
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  “You think?” Placing one hand on her hip, she leaned against the door and glared up at him. “You let me think that you’d guessed what Trevor had done to me, when all the time he was a friend of yours and had told you.”

  “Okay. Yes, he did tell me, but-”

  “You know, I’ve had it with you men who think you can just waltz into a girl’s life and do whatever the hell you want.” Remembering at the last second not to yell, that she was still a guest in the house, Belle controlled herself with effort and took a deep, calming breath. “Just go away, Martin.”

  “Not happening.” Marty strode right into the room, his height and breadth crowding her, forcing her to move backwards. He kicked the door shut behind him and then stood there looking down at her, his eyes scanning her features, a spark in them of either anger or annoyance, she wasn’t sure, but he certainly wasn’t amused.

  Great. That made two of them.

  Folding her arms across her chest, she scowled up at him.

  He continued to study her.

  It was a stalemate until finally she’d had enough of the lengthening silence. “What do you want?”

  “To explain.”

  “Oh, this should be good. But how about me taking a turn to guess?” She poked him in the chest with one finger, determinedly ignoring the mouth-watering hardness of his pectoral muscles. “You had a bloody good laugh at my expense, with your old mate Trev. You placated your parents by taking me out, proceeded to blurt out who I was to your friend at the pub, and then brought me home and dumped me into bed. Tell me, Martin, did you happen to tell anyone else about me?”

  Those brilliant blue eyes gazing down at her were starting to glitter, but she ignored the tell-tale signs of temper and continued.

  “So, come on. Did you tell anyone else about the poor, dumb sheila who made a fool of herself over a treacherous bastard and then was fool enough to actually trust yet another man, and then finally capped off a whole heap of foolish antics by getting drunk and having to be practically poured into bed?” She prodded him again, fury burning through her. “Did you?”

  Grabbing her wrist in a firm hold, he brought her hand flat against his chest, a move that surprised her into stunned silence. Leaning down to meet her face to face, Marty looked her directly in the eyes. “No.”

  His breathing was deep and even, controlled, and she could only blink. Dear heaven, did his skin have some kind of magical properties? Because the heat of it was coming through his shirt to burn into her palm, yet it wasn’t leaving scorch marks.

  “Belle?”

  “Huh?”

  “I said, no.”

  “No?” she repeated like an idiot, and only when she saw the sudden quirk of his lips, that damned dimple appearing beside his mouth, did she realise that she was supposed to be having an argument with him, not wondering at how good he smelled and felt.

  “No.” Angling his head to the side a little, he raised one brow. “Are you all right, Belle?”

  “Of course I am.” She yanked futilely on her hand. “Do you mind?”

  “Actually, yes, I do. I like being up close and personal when I’m being verbally flayed alive. It gives me a chance to watch blushes come into sweet cheeks and lush lips go all prim and proper. It lets me see the fire up close.”

  “What?” Her mouth gaped.

  His smile was slow and wicked. “I like being burned. Call it a kinkiness of mine.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “My siblings think so.”

  “Look, Martin-”

  “I love it when you go all prim, Belle. I’ve seen your fire, I’m feeling it right now.” He moved closer. “I like your fire.”

  Uh-oh. This could not be happening. She had to get her gumption back, gather her scattered wits and blast him with her tongue.

  Though going by his declaration, he’d probably enjoy that. Pervert.

  Belle backed off as far as her captured arm would let her. He simply moved forward again, so she moved backwards. He followed her.

  “Look,” she repeated. “You’re Trevor’s friend, and I hate what you did to me. Okay? So go away. Now.” Yeah, that’s telling him, Belle. Sheesh.

  The wall hit her back and in dismay she realised that the man in front of her had neatly trapped her against the wall. Before she could dart away, he was leaning towards her, one hand against the wall beside her head while the other still held her wrist gently but firmly. Only now his thumb was brushing along her racing pulse in a sweet, torturous sweep.

  She gulped.

  “Problem?” His voice was low and a little husky.

  “No.” She sucked in a deep breath, mentally grasping her skittering thoughts and trying to rein them in. “Back off.”

  “Not happening.”

  Chapter 4

  “So, Belle,” he drawled, ensnaring her gaze with his own. “Now it’s my turn.”

  “Your turn?”

  “Yeah, so listen up, honey. I’m a friend of Trevor’s but not a close one. Yes, he called me after the wedding fiasco and met me to cry out his sins and try to shift the blame as usual. I listened to him and that was it. No, I stand corrected. I told him he was an idiot who got exactly what he deserved, but ol’ Trev, as usual, didn’t take that into his thick head.”

  “I-”

  Shaking his head, he released her wrist to lay his finger against her lips. “Uh-uh, Belle, this is my turn, remember?”

  Remember his turn? She was lucky to remember her own name, especially when that calloused finger slid down to gently stroke across her bottom lip before sliding down further to tilt her chin up slightly.

  His eyes darkened, but he continued calmly, his voice washing over her like black velvet - wicked and soft. “I knew who you were as soon as I saw you, and I agreed to take you out because I liked you on sight, and that sight was you storming down the church aisle to give Trevor his comeuppance. We seemed to be hitting it off okay, didn’t we?” When she didn’t answer straight away, he tapped her under the chin in a tiny movement. “Belle?”

  “Yes,” she croaked, then cleared her voice and tried to muster her common sense, which was being sorely tested by his intoxicating nearness. “I mean, it appeared so, but then you-”

  “Ah yes. Alan. He came to me with the newspaper, knowing that I had been at the wedding. He was asking about you - although he didn’t know it was you - and when you came up the stairs and I looked at you, well, let’s just say that Alan can be an idiot at times, but he’s also rather canny when he puts his mind to it. Alan’s got a sharp brain, all right, but only when he chooses to use it. He used it right then. Don’t ask me how he knew, but he just knew. One look and he followed his gut instinct. Unfortunately, neither you nor I were fast enough to hide our reactions and there you have it. You got mad.” He rubbed his thumb across her chin and smiled a little, his gaze drifting over her face to stop at her lips.

  She could have sworn he left a blistering path in the wake of his gaze, and she was amazed that her lips didn’t spontaneously combust when his eyes turned hot while looking at them. God above, the man was lethal on so many levels. All she could do was listen to his deep, dark drawl while literally smouldering in her sandals from his nearness and touch.

  “My short-tempered little Belle decided that a drinking buddy with a similar man-hating attitude right then was much more preferable, until she got drunk enough that I could take her home.” He moved closer, dipping his head, his breath hot across her lips, his gaze sweeping up to catch her own. “You’re a sad little drunk, honey. Did you know that?”

  “I am?” Breathless. Oh God, she sounded breathless. Sounded? She was breathless!

  “Oh yes. You cried on my shoulder, I put you to bed and then, sweet Belle, do you know what you did?”

  “N-no.” Oh God, oh God, what had she done? Vomited? Oh God, no! She sucked in a deep breath, and immediately every nerve in her body zinged to life, because that one breath had her breasts pressing against that heavy, muscular chest.<
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  When had he gotten so close?

  “You tried to kiss me, Belle.”

  She had? Her lips parted in surprise, and then her knees shook because Marty blew softly on her lips, his breath slipping past the sensitive skin to invade her mouth, leaving her wanting more, so much more.

  In a daze, she realised that her hand was no longer resting against his chest. Instead, her fingers were entwined in his shirt, hanging on, pulling him closer.

  “But you fell asleep, bad girl. Right before you kissed me.” His lips hovered above hers, so close she could almost taste him. “You owe me a kiss, Belle, and I’m claiming it now.”

  Claim it? He didn’t just claim a kiss, he took it. Marty’s lips were briefly pressed to hers, a split second of settling, moving softly, and then he simply ate her up.

  Taking control fast, hard and without mercy, his tongue ran demandingly across the seam of her lips, an unspoken command to open to him and she could do nothing more than obey. Immediately he invaded, sweeping through her mouth, taking everything she had, swallowing her mingled gasp of shocked delight and need, licking deep and leaving his clean, male taste everywhere his marauding tongue swept.

  His lips worked hers, controlling, moulding, and how a man’s lips could be so soft yet so demanding, Belle had no idea.

  What she did know was that her senses swam, her nipples pebbled against the hard chest now pressed to her, and there was an extremely hard thigh between her soft ones. Not only that, but while Marty commanded her mouth, he was rocking his thigh against her mound, his hard muscles pressing and rubbing against her sensitive flesh, producing fire when she’d certainly never before had fire.

  Limbs going liquid, she melted against him. A big hand palmed her head and then long fingers were twining in her hair, angling her head expertly so that, unbelievably, he could delve even deeper into her mouth.

  Another big hand, this time on her bottom, fingers digging into her ample flesh, a tickle on the backs of her legs, and then shockingly a calloused palm was slipping beneath the waistband of her panties to slide down and grip one buttock, long fingers caressing, following the cleft where her bottom cheeks met.