Free Nuit Aux Trois by Melinda Barron Page A

to buy a house, or rent a fancy apartment. So she'd asked the real estate agent if she could suggest a place in the Quarter.
    The agent had done her one better, and suggested she rent a room from Devlin St. Giles, and his lover, Fletcher Covair. The two men bought and flipped houses, the money used to support their true passion: ghost hunting.
    The realtor had called, made the appointment, and driven Quinn over there. She would never forget her first sighting of them, both of them strong and muscular, both dark headed and brown-eyed, and both extremely handsome.
    But that was where the similarities had ended.
    Devlin was practical, a real thinker who never made a move without wondering where it would lead and how things would end up. Fletch, on the other hand, was a laid-back Cajun who liked to do things on the spur of the moment.
    She had liked them both immediately and signed a lease right on the spot for their second-floor bedroom. Since then, the three of them had become the best of friends, something her parents hadn't understood or approved of.
    The only thing missing from their lives together was sex.
    She moaned as she imagined the three of them in this huge bed, kissing and touching and making love. She'd been having these thoughts more and more often of late, and knew it wasn't a good thing.
    Dev and Fletch were in love, and there was no way she was going to come in between them or propose that the three of them engage in a ménage aux trois . Besides, they both played for the same team, and Quinn didn't have the equipment they liked.
    She sat back up just as they came out of the bathroom, still arguing about the pros and cons of visiting Fletch's aunt.
    "No voodoo,” she said. “I appreciate the thought, but no."
    Fletch's shoulders slumped, then his face brightened. He put his fingers together to where they were close, but not touching. “Just a little?"
    "No,” she said, her heart beating faster as they sat on either side of her.
    She put her head on Fletch's shoulder and took Dev's hand as he tickled her knee.
    "I still say you should sue,” Dev said. “You have seniority over the woman they moved into the anchor spot. It's discrimination because of your..."
    His voice trailed off and Quinn sighed.
    "Because of my size? Yes, you're right, it is. She's a perfect size two and I'm a perfect size fourteen.” She held up one hand before they could interject. “I know I'm not fat, but I also know that I'm not thin enough to be the anchor. And if I sue, then I get a bad reputation in the television world, and it's a small world as the old saying goes."
    "There's gotta be somethin’ you can do,” Fletch said. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, and she wanted to make a suggestion about what they could do. Instead she sighed and shifted her head to Dev's shoulder. He kissed her forehead, too.
    "I'm thinking it would be a good night to drink. I'm also thinking it would be a good night to work on my resume."
    The men stood, almost as one, and pulled her to her feet. Their closeness amazed her; sometimes it seemed as if they could almost read each other's minds.
    Dev turned her toward him and cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her lips lightly and Quinn's eyes bulged. She wanted to scream at him not to do that, that it would take them places they probably shouldn't go. But it felt so good.
    When his lips left hers, Fletch tipped her head back and took Dev's place.
    What was going on here?
    Sure, they'd kissed her before, but never like this. And never in their bedroom, with the huge, comfy bed they'd just moved upstairs waiting to be initiated into the world of carnal love.
    Don't go there, Quinn, don't go there. They're just trying to make you feel better.
    "Maybe we should—” Dev's voice was interrupted by a shout from the staircase.
    "We're coming up."
    "Shit,” Dev said at the same time Fletch said, “ merde ."
    The three of them moved apart as Martin Vandreen, a friend of theirs and fellow ghost