“That’d be a damn shame, because you look beautiful.” The low, husky baritone came out of nowhere, making Dana jump.
Clamping a hand against her precariously secured bosom, she tipped her gaze in the direction of the yummy, whiskey-smooth voice. Holy wowzers. A bona fide Greek god stood in the booth’s entrance. Seriously, he made Adonis look like a pencil-necked pansy.
Dana moved her attention from the charcoal gray tee shirt clinging to his broad, muscular torso. Roving beyond the stubble darkening his strong jaw, she locked on midnight blue eyes that were a stunning complement to his jet black hair and olive-toned skin. Awareness—hot, heady and sensual—slammed into her, stealing her breath and leaving her dizzy. The sensation was majorly weird.
Another man sauntered into the booth. Dana blinked. “Oh wow…there’s two of you.” Smooth, Dana. Could you sound more like a moron?
The differences between the two men were subtle. The newcomer kept his hair longer than his brother’s tidier, close-cropped style and she could just make out a faint scar above his right eyebrow. Other than that, their physiques might as well be a matching set.
Hmm, wonder if they’re identical in every way. The naughty thought hit her out of the blue, bringing a warm flush to her face. Why am I thinking about strange men’s penises? Giving herself a mental head smack, Dana gestured to the prints arranged on the shelves. “Feel free to browse. If either of you have any questions, just give me a shout.”
Her focus returned to the tub. Heated whispers sounded behind her but she pretended to tune them out. Still, she sent up a silent prayer that the men were arguing over how many dozen prints they should buy. Dream on, Dana. Smothering a soft sigh, she grabbed four watercolor prints and wedged the plastic tub underneath the drape of velvet before pushing to her feet. Now wasn’t the time to fixate on the dismal state of her finances. There’d be plenty of opportunity for that later—preferably with a gallon of fudge ripple ice cream close by to deaden the pain.
She swung around and collided with a solid wall of chest. The watercolors fell from her grasp and clunked to the ground. Blinking, she backed up until she bumped into the shelf and stared at the man who’d first walked into the booth. “Uh, call me crazy, but weren’t you standing all the way back there half a second ago?”
“I’m quick on my feet.”
“No kidding. You could give Flash Gordon a run for his money.” She bent for the scattered prints the same instant he did and their heads conked together. “Ow.” Grimacing, she rubbed her skull.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile. “Who says I can’t make a great first impression?”
Despite the fact she was on her hands and knees and in serious danger of flashing her boobs again, she couldn’t help laughing. He joined in with a deep chuckle and started to scoop up the prints.
“You don’t have to do that.” Anchoring her corset with one hand, she scrabbled for the remaining pictures.
“Allow me, Dana. It’s the least I can do after bashing into you.”
“Really, it’s o—” Her words rear-ending each other like a five-car pileup, she gaped at him. “How do you know my name?”
He stood and she quickly followed suit, scrabbling to her feet. Gripping the prints in one hand, he snatched a creased piece of paper from the rear pocket of his snug, faded jeans. It took a moment to recognize the flyer she’d taped to the window of Fancies. Her eyes narrowed. “Hey, I left that behind for a reason.”
“I’m sure you did.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to apologize. He didn’t. Instead, his scrutiny drifted to her plumped-up cleavage. The expression on his ruggedly handsome face turned predatory. For some ridiculous reason, it provoked shivers into playing a game of hopscotch along her spine. He lifted his attention from the neckline of her dress. Desire kindled in the depths of his irises, which were blacker than sin.
No man had ever looked at her quite like that, like he wanted to eat her alive, and certainly not five minutes after setting eyes on her. Nervously, she licked her lips. “You can set those watercolors in that bin over there.” She pointed to the crate that contained her wood nymph watercolors.
The stranger dutifully obeyed, giving her a nice view of sculpted muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he carefully settled the prints inside the rack. Dragging her gaze from the distraction of his broad back and tight buns, she glanced toward the other twin and noticed him watching her with an amused grin.
Damn, busted. She cleared her throat. “Why did you say you were here again?”
A flurry of wind bullied its way inside the booth, bringing with it a small bounty from the nearby maples. Both men ignored the swirl of scarlet leaves pooling around the scuffed toes of their hiking boots. The nearest brother—the one who kept devouring her with his gaze—stepped forward. A muscle ticced in his jaw. “Jace and I are here about the Drakoni contract.”
“Drakoni?” Frowning, Dana let her scrutiny ping-pong between the men. “Sorry, I’m terrible at remembering names. And unfortunately all my records are back at the gallery. What did you commission me to paint?”
Both brothers gave her equally blank looks. The one with the boyishly rumpled hair—Jace—sidled up beside his brother and elbowed him in the ribs. “What the hell is she talking about?”
Ignoring the question, the other man stared at her intently. With each passing second, his large, muscular frame tensed until he resembled a stone statue. A deep exhale gusted from his chest, shattering the illusion. “Hell. You have no idea why we’re here.”
A grunt fell from Jace. “Or maybe she just wants us to think that. To throw us off.”
Dana cocked her head to the side. “Throw you off? From what?”
Contemplation gleamed in Jace’s eyes. “Claiming our—” The remainder of his statement was muffled behind the firm clamp of his brother’s hand. Silent warning passed between the two men.
Right about then, unease charted a course through Dana. Just because the brothers were walking poster boys for Hunks-R-Us didn’t mean they didn’t also have a side gig with Psychos Anonymous. God knows, she was a magnet when it came to attracting every freakazoid in the tri-state area.
As if intuiting her concern, the one brother released his hold on his twin and stepped closer. His smile had a strangely hypnotizing effect. “No, you guessed right. We’re here about commissioning a painting.” He extended his hand. “I’m Aiden Fortune. The ugly one behind me is Jace.”
Geez, she’d always been a sucker for a man with a sense of humor. And dimples. Despite the paranoid inner voice shrieking at her not to do it, not to fall for his obvious charms and later become a body stuffed in his basement fridge, she grasped his proffered hand. Strong, powerful fingers enclosed hers. An unbidden image of those fingers caressing her skin, rasping over her suddenly erect nipples, zipped through her mind.
A voice crackled through the fairground’s PA system, announcing that the jousting tournament would be starting in ten minutes. The broadcast provided the perfect impetus to slap her out of her erotic daze. Biting her bottom lip, she broke contact with him and plucked one of her business cards from the small stack on the middle display shelf behind her. She shoved the card at Aiden. “Here. Why don’t you call me at the gallery on Monday, when I won’t be so scatterbrained?” Or horny.