“Hey,” Archer says softly and my brother and I both still, though I refuse to turn around like Gage does. I don’t even want to look at Archer, let alone talk to him. “Are you both headed back home tonight?”

“Well, yeah,” Gage says with a shrug.

“You should stay the night at my place. It’s not that far,” Archer suggests, sounding innocent as all get out.

Gage glances at me and I glare back. Oh hell, no. I’m not staying the night at Archer’s house. “I want to get home,” I whisper.

“It’s almost midnight,” Gage whispers back. “We won’t get back till past two, knowing traffic. I’m beat, Ive.”

“I’ll drive,” I insist. “I’m wide awake. I can make it.”

He raises a brow. “Like I’d let you drive my car. Give me break. You’re a hazard behind the wheel.”

I roll my eyes. One minor fender bender when I was seventeen and he never, ever lets me live it down. “I won’t wreck, I swear.”

“It’s my Maserati. No way am I letting you drive it.” Gage slowly shakes his head.

He wants to stay. I can tell by the look in his eyes. “Gage, no.”

“I have plenty of bedrooms,” Archer says, his voice hopeful.

I don’t want to acknowledge him. Really, I don’t. The more I think about what he did, the angrier I get. He said he would never touch me, all incredulous-like. As if he couldn’t fathom me as anything but silly, gangly, awkward Ivy the teenage loser. What a jerk. After he just had his hand in my panties and begged me to stay the night with him . . .

Finally I chance a look at him. God, he’s gorgeous. His suit is rumpled, his tie askew, his hair a mess. From my fingers. His lips are a little swollen and I remember how he kissed me, his taste, the sounds he made, the way he growled in my ear. Just like that I’m lightheaded and the feeling alone makes me want to slap myself back into reality.

Or maybe slap him for being so damn good at . . . everything.

Ugh.

“Come on,” Gage says, nudging my side with his elbow. “We’ll stay the night, grab brunch at that fancy hotel of his in the morning and then be on our way.”

Hmm, I’ve never been to Hush. The chance to see it intrigues me but it shouldn’t. Not after everything that’s happened between us. “I have to get home. I have to . . . work.”

“On a Sunday?” Gage sounds skeptical. Damn him. “Someone wants to have an emergency wallpaper meeting or what?”

Oh my God, I want to punch my brother so hard. I’d relish seeing him fall on his ass.

“Gage, shut the hell up. She probably does have to work,” Archer says in my defense, which surprises me.

This is the guy who wanted me to come back to his place so he could get me na**d in his bed. Maybe he has ulterior motives. Maybe he’ll sneak into my room after Gage falls asleep and strip me and press me into the mattress and . . .

I frown, my hands tightening into fists. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him, especially after the way he spoke about me as if I don’t matter to him.

But my body is singing a different song. As in, my skin is still humming after that amazing orgasm and my legs are a little shaky. Not from the stupid shoes with the four-inch heels either.

No, more like from the stupid man.

“Fine. We’ll stay.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. I probably look like a pouty baby but I don’t really care. I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. “But we wake up, we grab brunch, and we get out of here. I really need to get back.”

“Thanks, sis.” Gage grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing the back of it quickly. “You just saved me from an exhausting drive home.”

“Such a hardship since you’re driving that precious car of yours.” Cars are Gage’s weakness. He owns too many of them. His addiction is so ridiculous his garage looks like an exclusive, high-end dealership.

“Glad you two are staying. I have guest rooms that are always prepared,” Archer says.

I turn to glare at him once more, both uncomfortable and aroused at all the potential that comes with staying at his house. I’m sick in the head. I have to be to even consider . . . no, I can’t go there. I blame the champagne. And the amazing orgasm. “You better be on your best behavior.”

He throws up his hands in defense. “No funny business, I swear. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“You better, Bancroft, or I’ll kick your ass,” Gage mutters, his words backed with steel. “Ivy is hands-off when it comes to you.”

“I get it,” Archer says, slowly dropping his arms to his sides. The slight smirk falls from his face and his eyes meet mine, his gaze imploring. I’m not sure what he’s trying to communicate, but I do know one thing.

When it comes to Archer and whatever’s happening between us, I’m beyond confused.

Chapter Four

Ivy

HIS HOUSE IS amazing of course. I’ve been in plenty of beautiful homes in my life. My parents still reside in the palatial house Gage and I grew up in. It’s older but large, and has all the warm, lived-in touches that our mom has added through the years. It’s nothing compared to the modern, spacious, perfectly designed house Archer lives in in the heart of the Napa Valley.

Not that I can see much of it, considering the late hour. The interior is shrouded mostly in darkness, with only the occasional lamp turned on, but from what I can see it’s beautiful. Sleek and simple, yet warm.

Archer leads Gage and me through the wide hallway toward the guest wing, as he calls it. One wall is made entirely of glass and I can make out a giant pool in the backyard, surrounded by lush, perfectly manicured landscaping that looks like something out of a park.

The man certainly knows how to live, I’ll give him that.

“Nice, right?” Gage murmurs in my ear as we follow Archer. “I spend all my money on cars. Archer spends it all on his house.”

“Not that I’m ever here,” Archer says, revealing he spied on our conversation. No surprise. Since our encounter out on the terrace, I feel like he’s hyperaware of me. And I’m hyperaware of him. “I spend most of my time at Hush.”

“Do you have a room there?” The resort is treated as some sort of secret amongst my brother and his friends. At least, they keep it a secret from me. Always made me wonder if there are kinky secrets going down at that place.

Wouldn’t put it past Archer, at least.

“I keep a suite there, yes.” Archer slows so he can be closer to us. His scent reaches me, filling my head, reminding me of what it feels like to be wrapped in his arms, his broad shoulders beneath my palms. His hair is still a mess and he’s shed the jacket and tie, the first couple of buttons on his shirt are undone and revealing a sliver of bare chest that I have the sudden urge to lick.

I really need to get a grip.

“So you stay at the resort most of the time?”

“Not as much as I used to. When it was being renovated I never left. I didn’t even own a home then. Hush was my home. Now that the resort has been up and running for the last few years, I finally feel confident enough to leave it on occasion and actually have a life.” Archer flashes me a smile, making my heart flutter.

Stupid heart.

“Hush is his baby,” Gage adds like I don’t know this, though it’s fairly obvious. Considering Archer and I don’t see each other much, let alone talk, it makes sense Gage would make that assumption. “He created it out of nothing but his own sick and twisted mind.”

“Shut the hell up. I met a need that wasn’t being filled. Pure and simple.” Archer presses his lips together and his eyes narrow. He looks a little angry.

He also looks a lot sexy.

Stop!

“I’m intrigued. I’d love to see it,” I say, pleased when his expression eases. “Maybe you’ll take me on a quick tour of it tomorrow?”

“I thought you had to get right home tomorrow,” Gage starts just before I jab him in the ribs with my elbow.

Yeah, Gage is right. But I’m curious to see this side of Archer’s life that I know absolutely nothing about. I mean, come on. Not even an hour ago this man had his tongue down my throat and his fingers working me straight into oblivion. Any woman would want to know more about a guy after that sort of experience, right?

That’s what I’m telling myself.

“I’d love to give you a tour of the resort,” Archer says, his voice warm, his gaze hot as he rakes it over me. My skin ripples with awareness. It’s as if he just physically touched me. “We’ll have brunch and then I’ll show you around.”

“Sounds great.” I smile, he returns it, and for some strange reason it feels like we’re all alone, grinning at each other like idiots.

But then Gage clears his throat, bringing us both into reality, and I jolt at the sound, clasping my hands together to keep from reaching out and grabbing Archer.

I can’t grab Archer, especially in front of my brother. No matter how badly I want to. Gage knows all of Archer’s secrets, all of his faults. He loves his best friend, but Gage would never really want us together. At least, I don’t think he would.

Better to pretend there’s nothing between us rather than risk Gage’s disapproval. And there’s nothing going on with us. Between Archer and me. Really. A hot kiss and an orgasm. That’s it.

That’s sorta major.

I ignore the rotten little voice in my head and try to focus.

Regaining his composure, he shows us the guest rooms, which are directly across from each other, and I can’t believe how beautiful my room is. The colors are soothing blues and grays, the bedding lush, the furniture dark and sleek. The entire room reeks of sophistication. I take it all in, fixating on the bed covered in plush fabrics since I’m so tired and I can’t wait to collapse in it.

Or maybe the idea of Archer coming to this room later and making me come again and again is what really gets me going . . .

Overcome with a coughing attack at the thought, I wave Gage away when he shoots me a strange look. “I’m fine,” I say as they both head toward the open doorway. “Show him his room, Archer. Good night.”

Not giving either of them a chance to reply, I shut the door behind them and slump against it, thumping my head against the solid wood once, twice. Trying to knock sense into my brain, because clearly, I’ve lost it.

Sighing, I push away from the door and glance about the room, noting the open door that leads to a small connecting bathroom, and I go inside to check it out. All the amenities are here with the exception of what I might wear to bed. Not that I want to change into something left over from one of Archer’s sexual conquests, but still. I’m surprised there’s not a fresh, clean nightgown waiting for me to change into for the night, considering he has all the amenities. I guess I could wear my bra and panties . . .

Or wear nothing at all.

A little smile curling my lips, I find a plush terry cloth robe hanging from a hook on the back of the door. Running my hand over it, I contemplate taking a shower and start to shed my clothes, kicking off my shoes and letting the dress, my panties, and my bra fall into a pile on the floor.

I’ll look like I’m doing the total night-after walk of shame tomorrow morning at Hush wearing the semiformal dress I wore to the wedding. Something I never considered until now and I chew on my lower lip, staring at the gigantic glass-enclosed shower calling my name.

Maybe I should ask Archer if he has something for me to wear. Though how do I approach him? Sure can’t do it at the moment, since I’m standing here na**d. He might not mind finding me this way, though.

Stop thinking like this. You don’t want him to find you na**d . . . do you?

Oh my God, maybe I do.

A knock sounds at the door and I jump, grabbing the robe off the hook with lightning speed. Throwing it on, I approach, figuring it’s Gage ready to tell me something lame before he goes to bed. He’s always been a little overprotective, so he’s probably just checking up on me.

“I’m fine, Gage. Really,” I say as I open the door, stunned silent when I see who’s standing before me.

“Really?” Archer raises a brow, one hand in his pants’ pocket, the other clutching an article of clothing. “Why wouldn’t you be anything but fine?”

Oh. Shit. He should so not be standing in front of me right now. “What are you doing here?” I whisper, glancing over his shoulder to thankfully see Gage’s door is closed.

“Making sure you’re comfortable.” He thrusts his hand out toward me. “I brought you something.”

I’m ultra-aware of the fact that beneath the terry cloth, I’m wearing absolutely nothing. The impulse to untie the sash and let the robe drop to my feet just to see Archer’s reaction is near overwhelming.

But I keep it under control. For now.

“What is this?” I take the wadded-up fabric from his hand, our fingers accidentally brushing, and heat rushes through me at first contact.

“One of my T-shirts.” He shrugs those broad shoulders, which are still encased in fine white cotton. “I know you didn’t have anything to wear to . . . bed. Thought I could offer you this.”

His eyes darkened at the word bed and my knees wobble. Good lord, what this man is doing to me is so completely foreign, I’m not quite sure how to react.

“Um, thanks. I appreciate it.” The T-shirt is soft, the fabric thin, as if it’s been worn plenty of times, and I have the sudden urge to hold it to my nose and inhale. See if I can somehow smell his scent lingering in the fabric.