Virgin Princess, Tycoon’s Temptation / The Secret Child & The Cowboy CEO: Virgin Princess, Tycoon’s Temptation

Knowing he would probably regret it later, Garrett moved aside so his brother could step into the foyer. The cool evening air that followed him inside sent a chill down Garrett’s back and when Ian dropped his duffel on the floor, a plume of dust left a dirty ring on the Italian ceramic tile. He would consider it a bad omen if he believed in that sort of thing.

“Spacious,” Ian said, gazing around the foyer and up the wide staircase to the second floor. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

“Don’t touch anything.” Things had a mysterious habit of finding their way into Ian’s pockets and disappearing forever. “And take off your boots. I don’t want you trailing mud on my floors.”

“Could I trouble you for a shower?” Ian asked as he kicked off his boots, revealing socks so filthy and full of holes they barely covered his feet.

“You can use the one in the spare bedroom.” It was the room that possessed the least valuable items. “Up the stairs, first door on the right. I’ll fix something to eat.”

Ian nodded, grabbed his duffel and headed up the stairs. Garrett considered wiping up the dust on the floor, but there would probably be more where that came from, so he decided to take care of it in the morning after Ian was gone. He walked to the kitchen instead and put a kettle on for tea, then rummaged through the icebox to see what leftovers his housekeeper had stashed there. He found a glass dish with a generous portion of pot roast, baked red skin potatoes and buttered baby carrots from last night’s dinner.

He reached for a plate then figured, why dirty another dish, and set the whole thing in the microwave.

While he waited for it to heat, he noticed his wallet lying on the counter and out of habit slipped it into his pants pocket. He wasn’t worried about the cash so much as his credit and ATM cards. The last time Ian had stayed with their brother Victor, he’d run off with his Mastercard and charged several thousand pounds’ worth of purchases before Vic even realized the card was missing. Electronic equipment mostly, which Garrett figured Ian had probably sold for cash.

Garrett wasn’t taking any chances. After a shower and a meal and a good night’s sleep, he would loan Ian a few hundred pounds—that he knew would never be repaid—and send him on his merry way. With any luck, he wouldn’t darken Garrett’s doorway again for a very long time.

Ian emerged a few minutes later, freshly shaven, his hair still damp, wearing rumpled but clean clothes. “Best shower I ever had,” he told Garrett.

“I made you tea.”

He saw the cup and scowled. “I don’t suppose you have anything stronger.”

Garrett shrugged and said, “Sorry.” Unless he wanted his liquor cabinet cleaned out, Garrett was keeping it securely locked for the duration of his brother’s visit. Besides, Ian probably had a bottle or two stashed in his duffel. Given the choice between a meal and a bottle of cheap whiskey, the alcohol always won.

“Well, then, tea it is,” Ian conceded, as though he had a choice. “You just get in from work?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Came by earlier, but you weren’t here. I waited for you in the park across the road.”

It was a wonder he wasn’t arrested for loitering. The authorities in this neighborhood had no tolerance for riffraff. “I wasn’t working.”

“Got a lady friend then, do you? Anyone I know?”

Garrett nearly chuckled at the thought of Ian socializing with the royal family. “No one you know.”

The microwave beeped and Garrett pulled out the dish.

Knowing Garrett couldn’t cook worth a damn, Ian eyed the food suspiciously. “You made that?”

“Don’t worry, my housekeeper prepared it.”

“In that case, slide it this way,” Ian said, rubbing his work-roughened hands together in anticipation. Garrett watched as he shoveled a forkful into his mouth, eating right there at the kitchen counter, standing up.

“Delicious,” he mumbled through a mouthful of beef and potatoes. He followed it with a swallow of tea. He wolfed down the food with an embarrassing lack of regard for the most basic table manners. Their mum would have been horrified. They may have lived like paupers but his mum had always insisted they carry themselves with dignity.

“So,” Garrett asked, “why did you get fired this time?”

“Who says I was fired?” Ian asked indignantly.

“Please don’t insult my intelligence.”

He relented and answered, “The owner of the ranch caught me in the hay barn with his youngest daughter.”

“How young?”

“Seventeen.”

Garrett was about to say that a twenty-eight-year-old man had no business chasing a girl more than ten years his junior, but that was almost exactly the age difference between himself and Louisa. But that was different. Louisa was an adult—even if her family didn’t treat her like one. Not to mention that Garrett intended to marry her, while he was quite sure his brother was only using the young girl in question.

“Don’t give me that look of disapproval,” Ian countered. “It wasn’t my fault. She seduced me.”

Of course. Nothing was ever his fault. Someone else was always to blame for his irresponsibility. “Did you ever consider telling her no?”

“If you’d seen her, you wouldn’t have told her no, either.”

Unlike his brother, Garrett wasn’t a slave to his hormones. He had principles. He didn’t take advantage of women. Not sexually, anyway. Besides, he wasn’t taking advantage of Louisa. If she married him, she would never be denied a thing she desired. With the exception of a few children, that is.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked Ian.

“Like I said, I have something fantastic in the works. A sure thing. I just need a bit of capital to get it off the ground.”

He didn’t say it, but Garrett knew exactly what he was thinking and saved him the trouble of having to ask. “Don’t look at me. I’ve thrown away enough money on your so-called sure things.”

Ian shrugged. “Your loss.”

Garrett doubted that.

Ian finished his dinner, stopping just shy of licking the dish clean. “Delicious. Best meal I’ve had in weeks.”

“I assume you need a place to stay.”

He leaned back against the countertop and folded his arms over his chest. “There’s a very comfortable bench in the park I could sleep on.”

“You’re welcome to use the spare bedroom. For one night,” he stressed. “And I expect everything to be as you found it when you go.”

“I’ll even make the bed.”

“Well then, I’m off to bed,” Garrett said.

“Already? I thought we might catch up for a while.”

“I have an early breakfast meeting.”

Ian looked appalled. “You’re working on a Saturday?”

“Sometimes I work Sundays, as well.” A concept Ian, who worked as little as possible, would never grasp. “Help yourself to whatever you find in the icebox, and I have satellite television if you want to watch it. I’ll see you in the morning.”