My rolling luggage beat a steady click-click-click on the pavement breaks as I walked up to the VIP security checkpoint at the terminal of San Diego’s Lindbergh Field. I knew this trip would be a turning point in my career, but a funny feeling nagged at the back of my mind, predicting it would be more than just that.

I’d been feeling stagnant for a while, wanting so desperately to move forward, though continuing to be anchored in the same place. This trip, while only a few days, was the change I needed. Our cosmetics line at Stone Global Corp. was finally ready to take flight. Consequently, so were we—to launch the new line and all its products at Cosmetics Con, the internationally attended trade show that took place each year in the City of Sin. What better place to get out of a funk than nonstop Las Vegas?

The team, consisting of Drake Newland, Fletcher Ford, and me, was taking SGC’s corporate jet from San Diego to Las Vegas. A thirty-five-minute flight would put us right in the middle of the bright lights of the neon Strip in the Mohave Desert. I’d been to Vegas a few times before with my family—Auntie Maisie’s fondness for dollar slots was the stuff of in-jokes for us all—but I had a feeling this trip would be very different from hanging out with my parents, siblings, three uncles, three aunts, five cousins and a baker’s dozen of nieces and nephews.

That premonition didn’t have a thing to do with my travel mates.

Okay, maybe a little something.

Drake Newland.

Fletcher Ford.

Oh, God.

It was all Claire’s and Margaux’s fault. They were the ones responsible for the anxiety practically eating me alive. We’d had a girls’ night last week at my place and, once they learned I was taking this trip with Drake and Fletcher, the taunting advice and playful jabs had begun in full. They’d teased me with all the love in their hearts, but I still couldn’t erase their words from my frontal lobe.

‘Those two can smell a girl like you coming a mile away.’ That was the only G-rated dig I could recall. By the end of the night and after a good amount of Patrón, I had been getting advice on what lingerie to pack—and not to pack. I was certain my usually olive-colored skin had gone three shades of rose after that one, but Claire and Margaux were good at doing that to me on a regular basis. I hadn’t been sure if they had been truly serious or just trying to see how crimson they’d been able to make me.

“Good morning, Miss Perizkova. You look lovely today.”

I glanced up at the uniformed steward who appeared just as I cleared security, not quite sure how to react.

“Stop flirting with my girl, Martinez.”

As the man chuckled, heat crept across my cheeks. Fletcher Ford appeared by my side, swiping my rolling bag before it left the TSA belt. The SGC board member, innovator and creative taskmaster—not to mention dead-on Justin Timberlake lookalike—who’d helped start up this new wing of the company fell into step with me while we headed toward our flight.

“Mr. Ford.” I tried to give his physique, perfectly fitted in Armani today, as discreet a onceover as I could. “Good day.”

“Well, it’s a good day now,” he murmured in return.

Time for a new subject. Pronto.

“I can handle my own bag, thank you.”

I snatched at my roller.

He moved the luggage just out of my reach. “Darling, I’m sure you can handle a lot of things for yourself, but would it kill you to allow me to be a gentleman now and then? Come on. Let all of my mama’s hard work do some good.” He laid on the killer smile that had earned him the devil’s own reputation.

My resistance turned to dust. “Where’s Drake? Err, I mean Mr. Newland?”

And I’d asked that…why? The two men made me almost speechless when I was with them one-on-one. When they were together, which was damn near all the time these days, I became a bumbling fool. I should’ve been grateful for the reprieve.

Fletcher smiled again—though this time a bit of sadness seemed to flicker in his blue eyes. “What’s wrong? You don’t like just me?”

“That’s not what I meant at all.” Now I felt like an idiot. “Really, I didn’t—”

He put me out of my rambling misery with a steady hand on my forearm. “Easy, Tolly. I was just yanking your pretty chain.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“What? Tolly? It’s your name, isn’t it? Talia?” He said my full name more dramatically—before adding that damn grin again.

Thankfully, we were nearing the plane and I could get away from the uneasiness of having to worry about witty chit-chat. While we were interacting professionally, I could hold my own, but this personal stuff was so far out of my league. I was never really good at it with normal guys, let alone a smooth, gorgeous god like him.

He opened the door to the tarmac and the San Diego sunshine instantly warmed me. A grin spread across my lips. We were having one of the mildest winters I could remember, and it was wonderful. I really loved living in Southern California.

“Of course,” I finally answered him. “I’ve just never been called anything but Talia.”

“Maybe it’s time for things to change then, hmmm?” He nodded toward Stone Global’s private jet, sleek and white, waiting across the pavement. “And there’s the other subject of your wonderment—already getting on board the plane, I see.”

I followed his line of vision to the top of the jet’s entry stairs, where Drake Newland was ducking his tall frame to fit into the doorway. His short hair was spiked in its usual perfect fashion, his tight, muscular body molded into his custom-fit, buttoned-down dress shirt.

Not that I noticed the fit of his clothes.

Okay, I noticed. But it was hard not to—with either of these men. They were tall, handsome and very well-defined. I’d been working with them on the development of the cosmetics line at SGC for many long months, over many long hours. I would have had to have been dead not to notice their jaw-dropping physical appeal.

And their flirtatiousness.

Oh, yeah. That.

As in, flirtatiousness. All the time.

In the beginning, I’d told myself they simply behaved that way around all females, until Claire and Margaux insisted that wasn’t the case. It hadn’t been long before Taylor Matthews, my girlfriend from the sales department, had added her own agreement to that theory. After that, I’d begun to watch Drake and Fletcher a little more closely. For research purposes only, of course.

And what had that research told me?

At the moment, the only female I could pinpoint their pulling out all the blatant charm and urbane behavior around for—was me.

So what did I want to do with that recognition?

I had no idea.

The truth of it thrilled me.

But really, it terrified me.

* * * *

We were airborne and on our way in short order. The stress of the project’s culmination, as well as the importance of the task ahead of us this weekend, was catching up with me in the form of a tension headache. Luckily this smaller of the two Stone Global jets was as luxuriously appointed as the large one, allowing me to rest my head on a plush cushion of the sofa while we climbed to our cruising altitude.

The men were bent together over some documents at the galley table across the aisle, engrossed in a debate regarding whatever they were reading. Both Drake and Fletcher were passionate about everything they did, a fact I’d quickly learned over the months we’d been working together, although each man expressed his drive so differently.

Drake Newland was quiet and somewhat brooding, but if an issue came to a head, he turned into an erupting volcano. He’d simmer beneath the surface for a long period, not giving anyone an indication of his thoughts, until he finally blew—often with catastrophic results. But that also translated to his unadulterated enjoyment of life, which he grabbed with the same gusto. He loved his family with a fervor that matched my affection for my own. On a number of occasions, I’d been guilty of eavesdropping on his phone calls to his sister, brother and even his mom. It made me happy to hear people who still valued family the way I did.

Fletcher Ford was a huge contrast. He always and immediately voiced every single thought running through his head, telling you what he believed, whether good, bad or indifferent. He laughed a lot more than Drake, but it was deceiving. He had a distinct pit of sadness in him, just under the surface. I wasn’t sure where that stemmed from, but he dipped into it on a regular basis. Fortunately, he bounced back from the darkness easily. At least, most times.

“Tolly?”

I recognized Drake’s deep voice, even with my eyes closed. Great. He was in on the nickname now, too.

“Hmmm?” I kept my head back, not opening my eyes.

“Are you thirsty? Hungry?”

“No, thank you.”

“Are you sure?” Fletcher chimed in now.

“Why are you two playing mother hen?” I chuckled but still didn’t open my eyes.

“You’re quiet,” Fletcher explained. “You haven’t talked to us. Or even opened your eyes.”

“What’s wrong?”

I sighed. There was no point in blurting out how I was so stressed about the cosmetics division launch being a gigantic failure, thereby dragging my career down the pipes right behind it, not to mention being closed into this tiny tube of a plane with two incredibly hot men. No point, and no method. There simply wasn’t a tactful way to broach either subject.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just a little tense and I’m working on a headache. No worries.”

Suddenly, the sofa dipped on both sides of me. My eyes shot open and I bolted upright, all notion of relaxing gone. Drake sat to my left, Fletcher to my right. Both their chairs had been pushed out and left in a flurry. And I hadn’t heard one damn second of their movements. Well, that settled it. The bastards had to be part ninja and part cat.

Without a word of warning, Fletcher grabbed my hands between his large, warm ones. “Why are you tense? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, sheez.” My ire was gawky and fake, even to me. “I already told you—”

“It’s not the launch, is it? Talia. We have this nailed. You know that, right?”

“Fletcher, really—”

“You’ve been working too hard.” Over my head, he made eye contact with Drake. “I told you she’s been pushing herself too hard. We should’ve sent her home earlier.”

Drake pushed in closer. “Turn around. Let me rub your shoulders.”

Holy…wow. I felt the heat coming off his hard, huge body like microwaves. I literally pictured waves floating from him to me…and it was intoxicating.

The effect was intensified when mixed with the warmth of Fletcher’s hands. He still held both of mine, though he had begun to stroke from my wrists to fingertips with slow, caressing motions.

“Let Drake rub you.” His voice dropped in volume…and by several octaves. “We can help you relax.”

So soft. So seductive. My heartbeat quickened. I was flustered that Fletcher might feel my excitement through my pulse if he kept touching my wrist. But when I tried to pull back, he held me tighter.

“What are you two up to?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. We were work associates. Suddenly, this really didn’t feel like work.

“You’ve been over-working and it’s our fault.” Drake’s voice was quieter, too. “We should’ve taken better care of you. Let us do that now.”

Ohhhh boy, these two were dangerous. My belly flip-flopped with—I didn’t even know what. I’d never felt like this in my entire life and nothing had really happened other than one man stroking my hands while the other massaged my shoulders. It felt…good. And nice. So very nice…

Every single warning bell of self-preservation pealed through my brain.

“Listen. Your jobs aren’t to take care of me. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself. It’s nothing some Motrin and a nap won’t fix.”

“Talia.”

Something about the way Drake said my name, with that particular cadence and tone, made me forget all the reasons I should fight the notion of them taking care of me, and just let it happen.

“Okay,” I relented. “So a shoulder rub would probably feel pretty great.”

“Good girl.” It was a low, satisfied sound that brought a new flurry of tingles through strange places in my body. “Can you move your hair out of the way?”

Without waiting for me to reply, he gathered my hair in his thick fingers, twisted it into a ponytail and handed the rope over my shoulder. I held the end while he started kneading my shoulders.

Fletcher took the ponytail from me, a dazzling smile lifting his generous lips. “Now, just relax. After all, I’ve wanted to feel your hair for so long. Now I have an excuse. Relax, Tolly. Let Drake work his magic.”

Drake let out another rumble. It was deeper this time…damn near a masculine sigh. “We should be ashamed of ourselves, brother.”

My head shot up. “You guys are brothers?”

Fletcher turned on the lethal version of his smile. “In the ways that matter. But no, not blood relatives. Now close your eyes and relax.” His next comment went to Drake. “Why are we ashamed of ourselves this time?”

“She has knots worse than I’ve ever felt. I’ll bet at least half this shit is because of SGC.” He dipped his head, brushing my nape with his next words. “Why doesn’t your boyfriend rub these out at night, little Tolly?”

Gone was the growl. Now his voice was a guttural hum, joining with the magic of his hands to unarm me of the natural instinct against his fishing expedition. Down I fell into his trap, like the naïve girl they were convinced I was.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. And my turtle refuses to do anything for anyone but himself. Selfish bastard.”

They both openly laughed. I rarely joked. About anything.

Fletcher continued massaging my hands, now kneading my forearms as well as my wrists and fingers. All of the daily abuse from using a computer and mouse suddenly flowed out of my muscles and nerves, turning me into a bowl of Jell-O.

I was in heaven. They both worked quietly, tirelessly, relieving my exhausted body, moving from one side to the other, eradicating the tension that had accumulated in my muscles and tissues. In that moment, I would’ve told them any secret I knew, confessed to any crime I’d never committed, agreed to any wild hypnotic suggestion, if only they’d continue.

I was on the verge of falling asleep when Fletcher gently laid my hair back over my shoulders. I rested my head on the sofa again, a smile spread across my face…or at least I thought so. I would thank the men in a few minutes, after I enjoyed the glow a while longer.

All too soon, the pressure in the plane shifted. I could feel our descent, especially as my ears popped. I would’ve loved the massage to go on for hours, now that I’d accepted a rational excuse about why they had touched me like that. They were right—we’d all been working so hard, and it wasn’t such a big deal that they just wanted to take care of me for a bit. No harm, right? Coworkers cared for one another. That was what teams did. Made them stronger.

That’s a load of shit and you know it.

So the minute—the second—the plane landed in Vegas, this taking care of one another would be back on the inappropriate list. While we were in the air, no one would be any wiser.

When I finally cracked open my eyes, the men were back at the table, leaning toward each other once again. They were already so deep in conversation they didn’t notice I’d even looked. Still feeling limp and lazy, I slid my eyes shut, resting while we made our way toward McCarran.

“Where do we go from here?” The quiet rasp belonged to Fletcher.

“We still follow her lead,” Drake rumbled. “She had a hard time just letting me rub her shoulders. But my God, touching her was a fucking dream come true. She’s perfect.”

“I hear you. Her hands…they’re so soft.”

“And she smells really good.”

Fletcher whispered. “Yeah. Reminds me of mornings at that cabin we used to go to in the mountains. Clean and crisp and—damn, I don’t know. Sure as hell made my dick stand at attention. Not like it doesn’t always when she’s around.”

“No shit. Thought I’d have to hit the head before we landed. Luckily, things settled down.”

I swallowed hard and focused on breathing right. Was I really hearing this? They’d definitely flirted over the past few weeks, but this was more than I thought I’d ever hear from these two men—about me.

A memory flashed, clear and stunning, of Margaux’s claims about the way they had sex with women. They liked doing it at the same time! No. Just…no, no, no. I couldn’t do something like that—and even if I did, if my family ever found out, I’d be the disgrace of our entire bloodline. Black sheep? I’d be the black elephant. At the very least, I’d be disowned.

This one—these two—would have to be passed over.

But what if their massage was just a little appetizer of what things could be like…of what it felt like to go to bed with two men at the same time? With those two men, a girl just might die from pleasure overload. Fletcher and Drake would definitely pile on the enjoyment, too. Their hands alone were skilled, magical…and likely just the tip of the iceberg when it came to their bedroom prowess.

The sofa dipped again, but I really didn’t want to face them after what I’d just overheard. I focused on not moving. After a moment, I felt the seatbelt being fitted and clicked into place around my lap. I gave up the fight and opened my eyes. Fletcher was leaning over me, his face no more than six inches from mine. Blue eyes. Proud jaw. Luscious lips. The man was intoxicatingly handsome.

“Thank you.” The whisper popped out, almost of its own volition. Well, I’d been raised to have good manners—just not to deliver them in a rasp worthy of a porn star. But what the hell. We were still on the plane, which meant all of this still didn’t count. And I was really grateful to him…for so much more than helping me relax during the flight.

Again, Mr. Sexy broke out the smile that would melt a nun. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“What are you talking about?” My voice was sleepy, helping with the keep-things-casual angle. Hopefully.

“Letting me take care of you a little bit.”

“Well, you were right. It wasn’t hard. The massage was wonderful. And you too, Mr. Newland.”

I didn’t have to look to know Drake’s eyebrows jumped. “Mr. Newland?”

“My headache is completely gone.” Ignoring him was probably the best strategy. “That really was the best massage I’ve ever had.”

“We’re happy to be at your service whenever you need it, beautiful.”

I went ahead and rolled my eyes. “You guys lay it on pretty thick, don’t you think?”

Suddenly, there was a powerful finger beneath my chin. Then Mr. Newland’s storm-filled gaze consumed my vision.

Past tight lips, he stated, “We’re not ‘laying anything on’, girl. We mean every single word we say.” A pulse jumped in the center of his hard jaw. “We may be a lot of things, Talia, but bullshitters isn’t on that list. I’ll thank you not to make that mistake again.”

Just as quickly, he released me. Rose to his full, imposing height. Stomped his way to the small door leading into the bathroom.

“I think I made him angry,” I mumbled.

Fletcher clasped my hand again. “He has issues with being called a liar.”

“Yikes. I guess so. I didn’t mean to upset him.”

“Well, it’s not like you know all of our buttons yet.”

“Of course not.” I slid him a sardonic side-eye. “Because we’ve only been working intensely together for how many months now?”

“I meant other kinds of buttons.” When I didn’t respond, deciding not to approach the subject mentally, let alone verbally, he went on, “Some insider baseball? A heartfelt apology goes a long way with Drake.”

I eagerly accepted that part of things, before waiting in silence for Drake to leave the bathroom. The whole time, I felt terrible. I certainly hadn’t meant to be insensitive, especially after he’d been so kind to me. I ran over different ways to apologize to him.

Finally, he re-emerged.

“Drake?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I offended you. It was the last thing I meant to do. Please accept my sincere apology.”

His face softened, which made me feel worse and better in the same two seconds.

“I overreacted, Tolly. I have some issues with people doubting my sincerity, as you can see.” A laugh warmed those chiseled features a little more. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Hey”—I patted the seat beside me—“let’s call it even, okay?”

“Okay.” He sat and buckled in for the landing.

Fletcher did the same on the other side and we all watched out of the windows as we dipped in over the mountains of the Las Vegas Valley. The landing strip at McCarran International appeared ahead.

“Perfect,” Drake said as soon as we taxied to the private charters terminal. “The driver is already here. We’ve got work to do—and we need to get this little one something to eat.” He unbuckled and stood the moment the pilot flashed the lights to tell him he could.

“Agreed.” Fletcher was up and moving with the same palpable impatience. “Something healthy. She usually likes something light in the afternoons.”

It was my turn for exasperation. “Please stop talking about me like I’m not right here. And surprise, surprise, I can decide when and what I want to eat all on my own.” I braced both hands to my waist. “What’s gotten into the two of you? We’ve been working together for months. We left San Diego for Vegas, not Zimbabwe. A few hundred miles doesn’t put you in charge of my well-being. And news flash number two—I’ve been away from home before.”

Drake waited with forced patience, his expression plainly conveying the are-you-finished-yet? vibe, then softly explained, “I thought low blood sugar might be contributing to your headache.”

“I told you it was gone.”

“And it would suck if it returned.”

I squirmed, suddenly sheepish. If it was due to his obvious concern, his domineering tone or both, I couldn’t tell. “You’re right. It would.”

“We have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow. The trade show’s going to be insane. Besides, Fletch and I want to treat you to a celebration dinner afterward.”

“If you’ll allow us.” Fletcher’s interjection came with a pointed look at his friend. They’d clearly discussed this plan already, as well as my role in it. The knowledge brought on a thrill—and a shiver. “The hotel we’re staying at, the Nyte, has some amazing chefs at their house restaurants.”

“We’re staying at the Nyte?” I didn’t hide my astonishment. “I checked out their website when they announced the show would be there, but… Well, you two really travel in style, don’t you?”

Fletcher shrugged. “It’s where the show is taking place. Doesn’t it make the most sense?”

“Sense or not, I’m going to have some explaining to do when I turn in my expense report. One night there will blow my entire month’s allotment.”

“It’s all taken care of,” Drake assured. “We reserved a suite, so I don’t want to hear another word about expenses or costs for the rest of the weekend. Clear?”

He’d turned to address me while we waited for the plane to be secured, a move that trapped me tightly in the aisle between Fletcher and him. But that wasn’t what started my stammering.

“A…s-suite? As in, we’re all staying together? I-I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, you guys.”

“What’s the problem, Tolly?” Fletcher’s response vibrated into my hair. “There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms, separated by a living space. The suite’s probably bigger than your whole apartment in UTC.”

Drake nodded, never taking his eyes off me. One side of his wickedly full mouth kicked up. “I’m sure we won’t get under each other’s skin too badly for one weekend.”

Before I could say anything, he pivoted back around, ducking to clear the doorway of the plane, pulling his sunglasses down from his head to shield his eyes from the desert sun. Could he look anything more like some flawless hunk from a fashion ad?

“Wait!” Only shock brought back my voice. I hurried after him, blurting as we descended the stairs to the tarmac, “How…how do you know I live in UTC?”

He laughed. “What are you talking about, sweet thing?”

“Stop calling me those kinds of nicknames.”

Fletcher was right behind me—until we reached the Cadillac Escalade, when he jumped ahead and opened the door, despite the driver waiting right next to the vehicle. He was absolutely edible in his Wayfarers and with his dark gold, wind-tossed hair. How had both of them managed to get better-looking since San Diego?

“Does baby suit you better?” he teased, motioning me into the car.

“No.”

“Hop in,” he directed. “It’ll take just a few minutes to get all the bags off the plane. Honey?”

“No way.”

I slid into the Escalade. Of course this model had a bench seat in the back instead of captain’s chairs. I was sure the men would sandwich me in as soon as they entered. I noticed their habit of capturing me between them whenever they had the opportunity. The realization made butterflies battle in my stomach like kamikaze pilots, especially as I spied on the two of them through the windshield.

So powerful. So commanding. So gorgeous. So perfect.

What the hell is going on here?

I needed to get a grip on myself and this situation before I did something really dumb. First step had to be insisting on my own room at the hotel—but I already knew I couldn’t afford even a broom closet at the Nyte. It made even upscale places look like hobo shacks. With Cos Con in town, and on such short notice, I’d be lucky to get a room at a budget special down the street.

I closed my eyes, deliberately not tormenting myself with the sight of those two gods anymore. As I leaned my head back, I tried to settle my thoughts down. My Jell-O limbs from the plane were definitely gone and forgotten.

Something had to be done, and quickly.

“Love.” Drake slid in on my left.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I like that one best.” Fletcher folded his tall frame in on my right.

“It really rolls off the tongue.” They bantered back and forth over the top of my head.

“Please stop,” I snapped. “Please stop…all of this. I’m serious.” I was freaking out and needed to let them see that. Their new frowns told me I’d finally gotten through.

Drake cupped the back of my neck with a big, warm hand. “Talia. Settle down. We’re playing around. As for the situation at the hotel, it’s just a box in a building with places to sleep, not a marriage proposal. Let’s just check in, take a look around, and if you’re still worried, we’ll make other arrangements. The last thing either of us would do is put you in a position you aren’t comfortable with. Can you trust us on this?”

His touch worked its magic all over again, soothing my tension away in seconds. Fletcher added to the effect with his easy laugh.

“I’m pretty sure that when you see the place, you’ll be fine with it. You won’t even know we’re there if you don’t want to, angel.”

Out came his killer smile again, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

Damn it, these two were trouble.

Big, dangerous, sexy trouble.