She folded her arms across her chest. "With me?"

"This morning Matt called me a dead man. And I realized it was true." He paused. "Except when I'm with

you."

His words crashed over her. She laid her hand against the door frame for support, suddenly unbalanced.

Light-headed. One second became two, became many.

"Avery," he said softly. "Please."

Wordlessly, she swung the screen door open. Was she letting in friend or foe? She didn't know, was

simply acting on instinct. Or, if she was being honest, on longing. She moved aside as he entered and with shaky hands closed the door, using the moment to break their eye contact as she attempted to regain her equilibrium. She turned the dead bolt, took a deep breath and faced him. "I'll make us an iced tea."

Without waiting for a response, she started for the kitchen.

Avery was acutely aware of him following her, watching her as she poured them both an iced tea, as she added a wedge of lemon. She cleared her throat, turned and handed him the glass. Their fingers brushed as he took the glass. He brought it to his lips; the ice clinked against its side as he drank.

She dragged her gaze away, heart thundering. "You and Matt got into it this morning."

It wasn't a question. He answered anyway. "Yes. We fought about you."

"I see."

"Do you?"

She shifted her gaze. Wet her lips.

"He wanted to know where I was night before last."

"And did you tell him?"

"Of course. I was home working. Alone." He set his glass on the counter. "I told you the truth this morning, Avery. Trudy Pruitt called me. I don't know why, but I assumed it was for legal counsel. I returned her call. I never even met the woman let alone killed her."

"Is that what Matt thinks, that you killed her?"

"That's what he wants to think."

She defended the other man. "I doubt that, Hunter. You're brothers. He's just doing his job."

"Believe that if it makes you feel better." He glanced away, then back. "He didn't think to check the

woman's recorder. Yet, anyway. Are you going to tell him about the message?"

She wasn't, she realized. And not only because doing so would mean admitting to having broken and entered a posted crime scene.

She shook her head. "No."

"I have to ask you something."

"All right."

"Are you sleeping with him?"

She met his gaze. "That's a pretty shitty question, considering."

"He's acting awfully possessive."

"So are you."

He took a step toward her. "But we are sleeping together."

Her mouth went dry. "Did," she corrected. "One time. Besides, would it matter to you if we were?"

"Ditto on the pretty shitty question."

"No," she answered. "I'm not."

He brought a hand to the back of her neck and drew her toward him. "Yes," he murmured. "It would."

Heart thundering against the wall of her chest, she trailed her fingers across his bruised jaw. "Who threw

the first punch?"

"He did. But I goaded him into it."

She laughed softly. Not because it was funny, but because it was so true to the boys she had known all

those years ago. "Well, frankly, you look like he kicked your ass."

"Yeah, but you should see him."

Avery laughed again. "By the way," she murmured, "I believe you. About your call to Trudy Pruitt."

"Thank you." A smile tugged at his mouth. "Does this mean we can revisit the sleeping-together versus the slept-together thing?"

"You're awful."

His smile faded. "Matt accused me of being jealous of him. Of his relationship with you. With our

parents. Jealous of his ability to lead. He suggested envy was at the root of everything that's happened between the two of us. That I withdrew from the family because of it."

She rested her hands on his chest, her right palm over his heart. "And what did you tell him?"

"That it was bullshit." He cupped her face in his palms. "I always wanted you. But you chose Matt. And he was my brother."

The simple honesty inherent in those words rang true. They touched her. They spoke to the man he was.

And the relationship he and Matt had shared.

In light of her intense feelings for Hunter, she wondered what would have happened all those years ago if Hunter had made a play for her. She wondered where they would all be today.

"What about now, Avery? I have to know, do you still belong to my brother?"

She answered without words. She stood on tiptoe, pressed her mouth to his, kissing him deeply. She slid her hands to his shoulders. He tensed, wincing.

She drew away. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing. A few cuts."

"Turn around." When he tried to balk, she cut him off. "Now, please."

He did. She lifted his shirt and made a sound of dismay. Cuts riddled his back and shoulders, some of

them jagged and ugly. "How did this happen?"

"It's no big deal."

"It is. A very big deal." She lightly touched a particularly nasty cut with her index finger. "Some of these

look deep. You need stitches."

"Stitches are for sissies." He looked over his shoulder and scowled at her. "I picked out the pieces. As best I could, anyway."

Frowning, she examined his back. "Most of them, anyway."

"Come on." She led him to the bathroom and ordered him to sit, pointing to the commode. "Take off

your shirt."

He did as he was told. From the medicine cabinet she collected bandages of varying sizes, disinfectant and a pair of tweezers.

He eyed the tweezers. "What do you plan to do with those?"

She ignored the question. "This might hurt."

He nearly came off the seat and she began probing with the tweezers. "Might hurt! Take it easy."

She held up the sliver of glass, pinned between the tweezer's prongs. "How did you say this happened?"

"Matt and I were going at each other like a couple of jackasses, broke some gla- Hey! Ow!"

"Big baby." She dropped another sliver into the trash. "So you two broke some glass and rolled around

in it."

"Something like that."

"Bright."

"You had to be there."

"No thanks." She examined the rest of his injuries, didn't see any more glass and began carefully cleaning