It's All Greek to Me Read Free Page A

blinked at the sight of him, amazed for a moment that such a glorious specimen of male beauty existed outside the pages of glossy fashion magazines. He was taller even than the man she’d just knocked out, a good six inches taller than she was, with a broad expanse of chest that wasn’t at all disguised by a black silk shirt open at the neck, revealing a bronzed stretch of skin that she suddenly wanted to lick. The little indentation where his neck met his collarbone beckoned to her with an unholy fascination, and she stared, bemused for a moment, wondering what on earth her mind was doing demanding that she taste this strange—if terribly beautiful—man.
    “Who are you?” he demanded, his black eyes blazing with a fury that looked familiar somehow. “What the hell did you do to my brother?”
    “Your brother?” Suddenly all the rage, and anger, and fury filled her again with righteousness. “I was seriously considering beating him to a bloody pulp. You’re a big guy—I’ll let you help if you like.”
    His ebony gaze raked over her in a manner that left her both hot and cold at the same time, instantly dismissing her as not being worth his consideration. He shoved her aside and marched over to where the other man moved groggily against the wall. “I believe the phrase is ‘over my dead body.’ Get up, Theo.”
    “You want on my list, too? Fine,” Harry snarled, and would have rolled up her sleeves except the fawn-colored linen tunic she wore was sleeveless. “You can be second. Go ahead, Theo, get up so I can knock your block off.”
    The big, incredibly handsome man hoisted his brother to his feet, one of his lips curling. “You’re drunk.”
    “Not drunk,” Theo protested, his eyes glazed. “Barely had anything. That little bitch—”
    Harry moved faster than she had ever moved, intent on slapping the word right off his lips, but the other man caught her as she lunged toward his brother.
    “Who the hell are you?” he snarled, his arm like steel around her waist.
    “I already used the ‘your worst nightmare’ line,” she yelled at him, her fingers curling into a fist. “But you’d better believe I am!”
    He stopped her fist just as she was about to punch him in the nose, shoving her backward into the small clutch of people standing next to the bed. His black-eyed gaze crawled over all of them. “You’re not on the guest list. What are you doing here?”
    “They’re the band,” Harry said, jerking her thumb toward where the four of them, Cyndi now standing wrapped in the sheet, pressed together in silent amazement. “The one your sister hired for her eighteenth birthday, assuming you are the owner of this house of debauchery.”
    The man’s eyes returned to her, scorn just about dripping from his voice as he said, “You look a little old to be in a teenage band.”
    “I’m not old,” she said, straightening up. Behind the man, Theo collapsed into a chair, slumping over to rest his head in his hands with a pathetic groan. She narrowed her eyes on him, wondering if she could distract his brother long enough to get a really good punch in. “I’m only thirty-three, and I’m their manager. Kind of. By proxy. I’m a writer, really, but I’m acting as their manager because Timothy’s appendix burst, and Jill had to stay with him because she’s about due to pop any minute with their first child, and there was no one else to watch over the kids, so she asked if I would do it for just this one gig. And, idiot that I was, I thought, how hard could it be to watch over things while they played for some obscenely rich oil billionaire’s party? No one told me your brother was a drunkard who doesn’t have the common sense God gave a potato bug!”
    Harry glared at the man as he glanced from his brother to the huddled girl, now thankfully silent. He took in her disheveled appearance before his eyes narrowed on Harry. “I made my money in real estate development, not oil.”
    She stared at