âOkay, back to the topic at hand,â Duncan said. âYou canât stay here.â
Still watching Marc, Lovey saw his head snap up.
âI have to stay here, Dunc. Where else am I going to go?â
He cursed under his breath. âBut I told you, thereâs nowhere for you to sleep.â
âUh . . . she can have my bed,â Marc offered.
Lovey beamed at him. âThatâs so sweet of you.â
âShe canât have your fucking bed,â Duncan snapped. âWhere the hell are you going to sleep?â
Marc shrugged. âCouch?â
âIâll sleep on the couch.â Duncan gave a gusty sigh. âOne night. One night only. After that, you have to stay in a hotel or something, Lovey.â
âI canât afford a hotel!â She gaped at him. âDâyou think my last job paid me multi-millions of dollars like yours does?â
âQuit throwing my money in my face.â He slumped into the couch with a scowl.
âIâm not throwing it in your face.â She blinked. âIâm just pointing out what should be obvious . . . my marketing job for Kleinheinz Cheese did not pay enough for me to be able to afford to stay in a pricey Chicago hotel indefinitely.â
âYou have enough to rent an apartment, donât you?â He narrowed his eyes at her.
âUm . . . I have a little money. I sold my car.â
âLovey . . .â
They glared at each other in one of their famous sibling standoffs. She lifted her chin.
As usual, she won.
âFine,â he muttered. âStay here until you get on your feet. But it better not be long. And you better not be in our way.â
âThanks, Dunc.â She smiled. âI promise I wonât be. You wonât even know Iâm here.â
âWhy do I doubt that?â Duncan shook his head.
She looked over at Marc and saw he was grinning at the counter he was wiping.
Cheese whiz, he was gorgeous! Even more so when he smiled. Earlier heâd been so straight-faced and serious. A little curl of lust warmed her inside.
âWe need to get going.â Marc looked at her brother, the grin now absent. âGotta get to the dealership.â
âYeah. Okay.â Duncan gave her a narrow-eyed look as he rose from the couch. âIâm buying a new vehicle. Gotta go sign the papers and pick it up.â
âOooh. What kind?â
âDuncan! You canât drive a truck in Chicago!â
âItâs not a truck, for fuckâs sake.â
She made a face. âIf you say so. Iâll unpack and get settled in. Hey, could you pick me up a bed on your way home?â He bugged his eyes out at her and she laughed. âKidding! We can do that tomorrow.â
âWhat about the stuff from your apartment in Madison? Whereâs that?â
âStorage. Iâll get it shipped here when I find my own place.â
âYou mean you actually do intend to find your own place?â
âUh . . . yeah.â She gave him a âduhâ look. âI canât stay with you forever. Although, I could get some of the stuff shipped here . . . my bedroom set. And . . .â She glanced at his dining room full of weights. âYou could use a dining table and chairs.â
âFuck no. I mean . . . Iâll help you find a nice apartment.â
âSure. As long as you donât mind sleeping on the couch until I do.â
He groaned and she heard a laugh from the kitchen. She looked back at Marc and their eyes met. His gleamed with mirth and she felt that little kick of lust again.
He grinned. âDonât think Iâve ever seen Army taken out so easily. This is hilarious.â
Duncan scowled. âShut the fuck up, Duper.â
Her eyes met Marcâs and held again and she grinned back at him, trying (but failing) to ignore the flip of lust and attraction low in her belly. He looked at her long enough that she knew he felt it too.
Well, she certainly hadnât anticipated something like this. Sheâd come to Chicago to move on with her life. Things with Richard had gotten serious enough that sheâd been scared spitless; scared enough to break up with him, quit her job, pack up all her belongings, and run. She had a plan, figured thereâd be lots of opportunities in Chicago, and was going to get right on that, first thing Monday morning. She hadnât planned on living with a hot hockey player with a body that could turn a girl to a puddle of lust . . . but this was going to be fun!