Into Trouble: A Best Friend’s Sister Forbidden Romance Read online

  Into Trouble

  A Best Friend’s Sister Forbidden Romance

  Becca Barnes

  Copyright © 2019 by Becca Barnes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For Everyone Who Appreciates a Good

  Happily Ever After

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Also by Becca Barnes

  Into Santa: A Secret Billionaire Christmas Romance (Sample)

  Into Focus: A Second Chance Amnesia Romance (sample)

  About the Author

  One

  Tori

  Let’s get one thing straight right off the bat. I’m not a spoiled princess. I’m a spoiled heiress.

  There’s a big difference.

  In my case, about a three-hundred and twenty-five million dollar difference.

  Give or take a few millions.

  “Victoria Marie James, get your lazy butt out here.”

  My brother Nate had his hands on his hips and his chin pointed down toward his chest in what I called his Crainfield Industries CEO stance. Also known as his I’d-fire-you-if-we-weren’t-related stance.

  I did what anyone would do under the circumstances. I nestled down deeper into the plush leather passenger seat of his off-road Jeep, turned my headphones on full blast, and pretended I hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

  In truth, my refusal to leave the car had nothing to do with laziness. I was actually a very hard worker.

  When I wanted to be.

  My clinging to the car didn’t even have to do with the seven inches of thick, gloppy mud that coated the field where Nate had dragged me this fine spring morning.

  It had to do with the fact that we weren’t the only two people here.

  Standing ten feet behind my brother was a six-foot two-inch rock-hard specimen of manly man who was trying (unsuccessfully, I might add) to keep from chuckling. He covered for it by straightening the laser distance meter on the tripod he stood behind.

  “Tori,” said Nate, his voice now a low growl of frustration, “you’re being rude. Now put on your fancy, three-hundred dollar rain boots. And get out here. Now.”

  “Fine.” I pulled on my custom Hunters, which I’d gotten on sale for less than two-hundred, thank you very much, and shot him my own look of pure exasperation.

  I wasn’t even sure why he’d insisted that I be the one to helm this current project of his. Or, more accurately, helming it in name only.

  Nate had decided that in addition to owning the largest fiber optics company in the southeast United States as well as land and businesses all over Georgia and the Blue Ridge mountains, he wanted to try his hand at renewable energy.

  Therefore, a large chunk of land that had been sitting here ninety miles north of No Man’s Land (or at least any decent shopping), minding its own business just like me, was soon to be a wind and solar farm that would make him who knows how many gazillions of dollars.

  Or, I should say, who knows how many more gazillions.

  The man was Midas. I had no doubt that when he’d finished with this current project, it would turn to gold just like everything else he touched. Or green, in this case.

  It was a good thing, too, because I didn’t know a wind turbine from a potato. But there needed to be a family member heading it up for appearances and photo ops. His new wife Jen was busy teaching orphans to build robots or whatever it was she did at her non-profit.

  Hence, I was the new face of Crainfield Renewable Energy.

  “Tori, you remember my land manager.” Nate said it matter-of-factly as he hoisted me out of the Jeep like a rag doll and dropped me into a puddle so deep that mud sloshed all the way over the edge of the boots.

  I pulled my sweater around me tightly and gave my brother the stink-eye as filthy water dripped down to my ankles.

  “Yeah,” I said, staring past Nate at the guy who was now openly laughing. “Jack, isn’t it?”

  “Jake,” he corrected me, slipping his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans. He met my stare without blinking.

  “Oh, come on, Tori.” Nate let out a sigh. “You remember Jake. Jake Brand. We were roommates my last two years of college. He’s worked for me for three years now.”

  Three years, two months, and six days.

  “Hmm. I’m sure I’ve seen you around the offices then,” I said vaguely. Not that I spent a lot of time there myself.

  “Actually, as land manager, I spend most of my time out of the office. Managing your brother’s land.”

  “Ahh.” I squinted my eyes.

  “Jake’s one of my closest friends.” Nate threw his hands in the air and shook his head. “I swear, Tor. This is why I put you on this project. You’ve got to take something serious for once.”

  “I take plenty of things seriously.”

  “I’m not talking about shopping bags.”

  My cheeks burned. I bit down on my cheek to keep from telling him where he could shove a wide variety of shopping bags.

  Nate’s phone buzzed. He checked the message and startled.

  “Crap. I’ve got to run. I forgot I was supposed to meet Jen for a fundraiser.”

  “Give her a big hug for me,” said Jake.

  Kiss-up.

  Not that I didn’t love Jen. She was the only one who could put my know-it-all, controlling brother in his place.

  “You two good to finish up here?” asked Nate.

  “Sure,” said Jake. “I’ll drop Tori off at her place when we’re done.”

  “Are you positive? She lives way uptown. That’s out of your way.”

  “No problem.”

  “Thanks, man. I owe you one.” Nate climbed into the Jeep, tossing his old work boots in the back and replacing them with a pair of driving loafers like Mr. Rogers.

  If Mr. Rogers had been an annoying turd who was incapable of ever being wrong.

  He swung the vehicle around in an arc, spraying me all over with fine droplets of muddy water. As he drove back by, he tossed my handbag out the window to me.

  “You’re a freaking menace,” I yelled, brushing away flecks of dirt from my legs. In hindsight, the upper thigh-grazing mini-skirt had been a poor outfit choice outside the Atlanta city perimeter, no matter how cute it was.

  “Hey.” Nate paused and rested his arm on the window. He pointed at Jake, then me. “You’ve gotta stay on top of her. Okay?”

  “Will do.” Jake put on a serious face and nodded once.

  My gaze drifted up to the tree line, over to the glow of the Jeep’s tail lights as Nate sped away, basically anywhere but at the man in front of me.

  “You’re enjoying this,
aren’t you?” I walked over to Jake’s truck and dumped my purse in the back seat of the cab. I leaned against the worn, vinyl seat and braced my boot on the running board. “My humiliation at the hands of my asshole brother.”

  “Your brother’s not an asshole.” He kept his focus trained on the survey equipment, but his grip on the tripod tightened.

  “You would take his side. You always do everything he asks of you.”

  “For someone who couldn’t recall my name ten minutes ago, you certainly seem to know me pretty well.”

  “A little testy there, aren’t you, Jack?”

  “Jake.” He walked over and braced his arm above the place where I sat, on the truck’s door frame. His well-earned biceps strained against his tee shirt. Lordy, the man radiated masculinity. “And as for enjoying myself, I can think of several more enjoyable scenarios involving you and mud.”

  “Is that so?” I cocked my eyebrow up.

  “But you are right about one thing. I’m going to do exactly what your brother asked me to.”

  “Oh?” It came out a squeak.

  “I’m going to stay on top of you. I’m going to stay on top of you hard.”

  “Well, then.” I guess that was the end of pretense. I grabbed the sides of his shirt and pulled him into the cab, grappling at his belt buckle as I scooted backward.

  Okay, so the skirt hadn’t been so much poor hindsight as excellent foresight.

  He still growled in frustration as he struggled to remove the wisp of lace thong I wore.

  “What is this thing? A medieval chastity belt?” He finally grabbed the side and ripped it.

  “Hey. Those were La Perlas.”

  “Let me guess,” he said, yanking down his jeans. Overpriced undies from France?”

  “Italy.”

  “Well, now they’re La Trasha.”

  “Just next time, let me--ahhh.”

  “What was that?” he murmured, his teeth taking tiny nips at my earlobe while his fingertips worked some serious magic where the La Perlas had been.

  “Umm.” I tried to answer, but my brain and tongue were soon otherwise occupied.

  Two

  Torie

  So...yeahhhhh.

  Jake and I are friends with benefits.

  Heavy on the benefits.

  Light on the friendship. For obvious, brother-shaped reasons.

  No, that’s not entirely the truth.

  Even before I put two and two together who he was, his history with Nate, I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Definitely not looking for a commitment. I’d had enough of that for a lifetime or two.

  But a dependable booty-call? Priceless.

  Three

  Jake

  The first rule of Friend Club: Don’t fall for your best friend’s little sister.

  Second rule: Do not fall for your best friend’s little sister.

  Especially when your best friend is also your boss.

  Thankfully, over the last three years, I’d been able to follow that rule quite easily.

  Well, for the first twenty minutes after I met her, at least.

  * * *

  “Hey.” I nudged Tori’s hip from across the truck’s cab. “We’re home. I mean, you’re home.”

  “Mmm.” She let out a little yawn and stretched. God, I could take her straight upstairs for an encore. Or, I guess, a second encore. But we had a strict rule. Never at her place. Never at my place. Too great a chance Nate would show up unannounced. And as he had keys to both apartments, because, y’know...little sister...best friend...shit. What was I thinking?

  It was only a matter of time before he caught us. Which meant it was only a matter of time before he killed us.

  Scratch that.

  Killed me.

  Tori might gripe about her brother, but he worshipped the ground she walked on. The only reason he was hard on her was because he wanted the best for her.

  And I was anything but the best.

  I owed Nate so much. He’d hired me at my lowest. All my savings had been flushed away after Dad had gotten sick, followed by the funeral expenses and taking care of Mom. Then my ex-fiancée Becky left when I had no choice but to declare bankruptcy.

  And this was how I repaid him. Shagging his little sister senseless on a fairly regular basis.

  “I’ll walk you up,” I said.

  “You don’t have to do that.” Tori grabbed her purse out of the back. It probably cost more than I make in a month. Not that Nate didn’t pay a generous salary. Tori was just notorious in her expensive tastes.

  The La Perlas, for instance. I played stupid on that underwear, but I knew good and well how much they cost. Curious, I’d googled the brand after one of our first trysts. Hundreds. For a piece of fabric that had torn like a butterfly’s wing against her soft skin.

  And yeah, I should probably feel guilty for ripping it to shreds, but I couldn’t add that to my regret pile. Because a.) worth it. And b.) that pile was already teetering on skyscraper status.

  I hopped out of the truck and circled to the passenger side, helped her down, and grabbed her mud-covered boots tucked behind the tool box that hugged the cab.

  “I’ll walk you up,” I repeated.

  She started to protest again, but a whining whimper interrupted her. We both looked around for the source and found it at the same time--a tiny dog cowering behind a bush next to the lobby’s side entrance.

  “Poor baby,” said Tori, crouching down next to the puppy. Looked to be some kind of chihuahua mix, no bigger than my fist. It was dirtier than her boots, probably covered in fleas, shaking and shivering. It immediately flipped onto its back in submission to her.

  “Do you want me to call the Humane Society?” I asked.

  “No.” She scooped him up, filthy fur and all. “I’m going to keep him.”

  “Is that a good idea, Tor?” I glanced up at her fancy high-rise apartment building.

  “What?” She looked up at it, too.

  “Nothing,” I said. “But have fun breaking the news to your landlord.”

  “Thankfully, my landlord’s wife loves dogs. I’ll have Jen break the news to him.”

  I sighed. Wrapped around Nate’s little finger.

  And I had no business wanting her.

  Four

  Tori

  I’ll admit the dog was a pretty impulsive decision, even for me.

  And I’d been the queen of impulsive decisions.

  Decisions that had cost more than a chewed-up shoe. Even if those shoes were Manolo Blahniks. It was the main reason Nate had grown so overprotective over the years. Our parents died when I was young, and we were raised by our nana. Nate was seven years older than me, out of the house when I was still in middle school. Sometimes, I wondered if I would forever be enshrined as a little girl in his mind.

  By the time he was twenty-five, Nate was providing for our family. By the age of thirty, he was a multi-millionaire. And with the shares of his company that he’d signed over to me, so was I.

  “Dang it. Scrappy didn’t waste time, did he?” I said, picking up the shreds of leather from my destroyed shoes. At least the Manolos were a few seasons back.

  “Scrappy?” called Nate from the living room.

  “Or Pookie? I haven’t decided yet.”

  I shooed the puppy out of my closet and into the kitchen, closing the door behind me after I fixed him a bowl of food. I’d already scrubbed him down while I got a shower, but I’d keep him corralled until he could be trusted.

  “Nice place.” Jake cracked open a bottle of one of the beers I kept stocked for Nate.

  “Yeah. It feels weird that you’ve never been up here.” I pushed a button to open the curtains, revealing the best view in all of Atlanta. I’d give my brother this. Location, location, location. He sure could pick them.

  “Weird’s a good word for it,” said Jake. “That, or horribly wrong.”

  “Don’t start with the guilt thing.” I plopped down next to him. “I’m a big gi
rl. Remember? I can make my own choices. Besides, my brother is hardly a saint. He’s told his share of whoppers.” Namely, concealing his identity while wooing his wife.

  “I’ve never known him to lie unless it was for a good cause,” said Jake.

  “And providing me with mind-blowing orgasms isn’t a good cause?” I tugged at the belt of my robe and let it fall open as I scooched onto his lap.

  “Tori.” Jake’s voice was reproachful. “We can’t.”

  “Oh, I can.”

  “But we agreed we’d never—“

  “I locked the deadbolt. No one’s going to walk in. Besides, that dinner thing that they had to go to was in West Virginia. They’ll stay up at the cabin.” My lower lip slid into a pout as I straddled him. He could protest all he wanted. The massive erection fighting to get out of his jeans was on my side, though.

  “We really can’t.” He braced his hands on my hips, holding me firmly out of reach. “I left my wallet down in the truck.”

  “I think after three years, you don’t need to show me your I.D. to prove who you are.”

  “No, Tor. My wallet.” He sighed when I still gave him a look of confusion. “Condoms, Tori. They’re down in the truck. Unless you have some.”

  I didn’t. It wasn’t like I’d been with anyone but him in three years.

  It was ironic. My brother still saw me as this hard-partying wild child from high school and college. But adopting a dog off the street had been the most impulsive thing I’d done since…