Breaking Up With Barrett, The English Brothers #1

Chapter 9

"Emily!" exclaimed Hélène, holding out her hands as Emily stepped into the foyer of the grandest home she'd ever seen, next to Haverford Park. The Harrison's Hamptons "cottage," Trade Winds, was a rambling grey-shingled mansion set at the end of a private lane with sweeping 180 degree views of the ocean. "You're finally here!"

Emily took Hélène's hands and allowed herself to be folded against the older woman's chest. "Your mother?"

"Much better, Mrs. Harrison."

"C'est bon! And you must call me Hélène! We're good friends now." She beamed at Emily, wrapping an arm around her waist and ushering her to the staircase. "But, you've also arrived at the worst possible moment! We're all headed out for an impromptu sail, though I know that you, and your adorable fiancé"—she leaned to the right to kiss Barrett's cheek—"can find something to do for the hour we're gone? Oui?"

"Oh, I..." Emily flushed, taking a deep breath and chuckling awkwardly at Hélène's innuendo.

"Josephina! Please take Mr. English and Mademoiselle Edwards up to their room! Cocktails on the dock in an hour!"

In a flurry of silk scarf and perfume, Hélène click-clacked through the house to catch up with the rest of the sailors.

Barrett looked at Emily, barely suppressing a grin, and Emily's shoulders shook lightly as she turned and followed Josephina-the-maid up the stairs. Hélène Harrison was certainly larger than life in her own digs.

They turned right at the landing, and then followed Josephina down to the end of the hall where she opened the last door on the left. She gestured for them to enter. "Your bags will be up in a moment."

"Thank you so much, Josephina," said Emily, smiling at the young woman. "You're very kind."

Taken aback, the maid beamed at Emily and nodded as she closed the door behind them.

"You're nice to everyone," said Barrett softly from where he stood between two of four French doors that looked out onto the water. Through white gauze curtains Emily could see the green lawn that led down to the water, the waves and blue sky, sailboats bobbing in the breeze. Frankly, she was happy to look anywhere that didn't include the Queen-sized bed that dominated the small, but charming, guest bedroom.

"My mother always had favorites. You know, of your houseguests. The ones who were nicest to her."

Barrett grinned, crossing the room and sitting down in an easy chair situated by a fireplace. Emily suspected he'd chosen to sit there, and not on the bed, to make her more comfortable, and she was grateful for it.

She was achingly aware of him in such close quarters, replaying their kiss in the limo, on her father's kitchen counter, in the plane, and—oh, God—on the tennis courts.

"It's so warm in here," she said, leaning away from the door and heading to the windows. She separated the curtains and opened a set of French doors that led to a balcony with two chairs. "Come sit outside with me?"

He'd been watching her from his seat by the fire and sighed, a little disappointed maybe to leave the intimacy of the small room. He stood, shrugging out of his suit jacket, which made the muscles on his back ripple. Emily stared with unabashed admiration, whipping her glance away when he turned around, but damn it, he caught her and grinned.

"Want to see anything else?" he asked in a low voice, loosening his tie. Emily watched as he took it off, then unbuttoned the two top buttons of his dress shirt.

Her mouth went dry. Completely gorgeous Barrett English, who had given her an al fresco orgasm on Saturday night was standing in front of a bed, in a bedroom they were sharing, undressing. She pressed cool hands to hot cheeks and turned back to the balcony. "N-no, thanks."