“You don’t have any pockets on your dress.” His gaze slid down her red satin cocktail dress, lingering on her legs. Or had she imagined the part about lingering? “I’ll take it.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m not handing it over.”
He put his hands on his hips, doing his best to look casual—but she knew his tricks—then shot his hand out, trying to snatch it out of her fingers. She jumped back and hid it behind her back. “You’ll have to be smoother than that if you want to fool me. You’ve been doing that move since you were eight, Brett-Brett.”
His lips twitched at the old nickname. She’d started using it when he started calling her Twinkletoes. It wasn’t very original, but it had annoyed him, so she’d gone with it. “Tell me what’s really happening. You’re up to something.”
She lifted her chin. “Am not.”
“Are too.”
She rolled her eyes. “How old are we again?”
“Old enough for what I’m about to do to get that card.” He took a step toward her, and she tried to back up. She didn’t budge. Oh. Right. The chair. He held out a hand and narrowed his eyes on her. “Last chance. If you don’t give it to me, I’m going to tackle you to the floor and tickle you until you give in. And we both know you’ll give in.”
Anna’s mouth went dry at the thought of his body pressed against hers. “If you’re tackling me, it better be for something a lot more exciting than tickling.”
“Anna…” His eyes darkened slightly, and he took a small step toward her. “You better watch what you say to me. Someone might get the wrong idea. We’re not kids anymore.”
“I’m glad you noticed.” She lifted her chin. “Bring it, Brett-Brett.”
“You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
“Are you so sure about that?” she asked slowly, locking eyes with him.
He took a step in her direction, his eyes on her mouth.
Holy crap, was he going to kiss—?
“One.” He stepped closer. “Two.” Another step. “Three.” He was in front of her, their feet touching. He, quite unfortunately, stopped there. “Anna…”
“Well? What are you gonna do now?” she asked breathlessly.
He tilted her chin up, his eyes examining her face. He ran his thumb over her chin, his brow furrowed in confusion. It almost looked like he wasn’t sure who she was right now. She rested a hand on his chest and held her breath, because he was looking at her like he was going to kiss her again.
“Why, exactly, are you holding my sister’s chin like that?” Christopher asked, his voice light and yet somehow strained at the same time. “She got something in her eye?”
Anna closed her eyes and counted to ten.
She loved her brothers. She really did.
But sometimes, just sometimes, she hated them.
Brett dropped his hand immediately, backing away from her like she was on fire—and he was going to let her burn. “Hey. I was looking for you.”
“I’m not in my sister’s eyes.” Christopher crossed his arms and turned his penetrating stare toward Anna. “What are you hiding behind your back?”
Her fingers closed around the paper tighter, just in case her brother somehow managed to reach across the room and snatch it away. “None of your business.”
“Why not?” Christopher asked.
She took a calming breath. “Because it’s nothing. Drop it.”
“If it’s nothing, then give it to me.” Christopher narrowed his eyes. “Now.”
“What do you think I’m hiding, for the love of God? The secret launch codes for the world’s nuclear bombs? Jesus.”
Christopher’s brows lowered. “You were alone with Brett, and now you won’t show me what you’re holding. So I don’t know what you have—but you’re going to show me, even if I have to tackle you to the floor.”
This chauvinistic behavior was getting old. Really old. “It’s a used condom. We were having sex on the table. You caught us before we could clean up.”
Brett cracked up, leaning on a chair for support. She blinked at him in surprise. “Opted for honesty, huh, Twinkletoes?”
“Yep, Brett-Brett.”
“Why the hell are you guys calling each other weird names?”
“You don’t want to know. It’s…” Anna leaned in, watching Brett as she said, “…of a personal nature. Kind of like what we were doing earlier on the table.”
Brett laughed again. “Very personal.”