Beyond the Edge by Susan Kearney Page B

sending a wave of sensation through her.
    Get a grip. She stood straight, but it still wasn’t enough to bring the top of her head any higher than his shoulder. She bent and reached for her gown to dress, wishing she had a thick robe to cover herself.
    “I didn’t tell you to dress.”
    She pulled the gown over her head and let it flutter to her feet. “No way am I dealing with him naked.”
    Kane placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her to look in the mirror. “This is what he’ll see.”
    Fallon gasped. In the mirror, she appeared to be fully dressed in slacks, a blouse and jacket. But when she looked down at herself, she was still clad in the lace gown. “How?”
    “Oh my darling sister Fallon. Oh my darrrrling Fal-al-lon. You can’t be lost and gone forever…”
    Fallon groaned.
    Kane kept his voice low. “I can’t explain the buff’s technology. Suffice it to say, that drunk isn’t going to see one inch of you that he shouldn’t.”
    And she couldn’t help noting his possessive tone. She didn’t understand how the device worked, and for a moment she thought of the story of “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” in which he walks around and everyone pretends he’s really clad in silver-and gold-threaded garments. But another look in the mirror reassured her that Kane was telling her the truth.
    Time to deal with Sinclair. “He’ll stand out there and bellow all night if I don’t talk to him.” When Kane still seemed undecided, she added, “The neighbors might hear.”
    “What’s he want?”
    “Money would be my first guess.”
    Finally, Kane nodded. “All right. But get rid of him quick.”
    While Kane remained in the living room, Fallon hurried to the front door and opened it, half-expecting Sinclair to ogle her in the nightgown. Instead, he almost fell on top of her.
    Sinclair’s breath reeked of rum. She noted the top three buttons of his custom-tailored shirt were missing. As he staggered toward her, she straight-armed him in a defensive gesture, shoving him to one side.
    Unsteady after her thrust, he stumbled backward against the door, effectively shutting it before he collapsed in a heap. Sprawled on the hard granite with his feet stretched out in front of him, he hiccupped. “S’excuse me.”
    His boyish looks and shadowed pain no longer swayed Fallon to see his side. Sinclair needed to grow up. She took in his glazed pupils and bloodshot eyes. “How much did you lose?”
    His dignity lost several drinks ago, he crawled across the floor and wrapped his arms around her ankles. “I wor—sip, worship at your feet.”
    “Right. You worship the ground my grandfather struck oil on. What are you going to cost me this time?”
    He sent her his most charming, albeit lopsided, grin. “You still love your little brother, don’t you?”
    “I don’t have time for this. How much?”
    Kane strode forward, clearly not worried that Sinclair would see him. Besides, she doubted Sinclair would remember a thing tomorrow morning. Her stepbrother glanced at Kane but didn’t acknowledge the man. Many women found Sinclair sweet and endearing. Fallon knew better. He wasn’t sensitive but weak. His latest ex, Margaret, had grown tired of being a full-time lover, playmate and mother to him. Once she’d discovered that Sinclair’s constant demand for attention hid a deep insecurity, she’d filed for divorce.
    “Fallon, I loved Margaret at first sight.”
    “You saw her first in her Rolls.”
    “You’re a hard woman, my love. But I’ll pay you back, this time. I swear.” He crossed his fingers over his heart. “I need five.”
    Kane plucked her purse off the bench and shoved it into her hands. “Just pay him the five hundred so he’ll leave.” He sounded irritated that she hadn’t yet managed to get rid of Sinclair.
    Sinclair might be drunk but he was shrewd and street smart. From the sly angle of his head, she guessed that he sensed opportunity in Kane’s impatience. “But five