Free King's Passion by Adrianne Byrd

settled down?”
    Had someone just switched on a gigantic interrogation light? Suddenly, the room felt incredibly hot and the tiny hairs on the back of Eamon’s neck stood at attention. “I’ll get there eventually,” he said, hoping that would help kick the can down the road.
    Quentin laughed. “Just not any time soon?”
    Eamon shrugged. “Maybe…maybe not. I’ve been a little busy with The Dollhouse. Hands-on type of work.” He tossed in a wink.
    â€œYou’re starting to make me feel like you don’t appreciate me and my little checkbook.”
    Eamon smiled, but he didn’t answer.
    However, Q wasn’t about to let the subject go. “Anyway. The clubs are doing well and…”
    The front door opened and a long procession of dancers entered the club, smiling and waving. “Hello, Q, Eamon!”
    â€œYou ladies ready to make some money tonight?” Quentin asked.
    â€œYou know it!” Cotton Candy held up two deuces and bounced her hips.
    Q’s smile sloped unevenly as he watched the women stroll toward the back room. He didn’t miss a single bounce or jiggle. “You know you need to just go ahead and admit the truth.”
    Eamon frowned. Had he forgotten what they were talking about? “Which is?”
    â€œMen like us can never settle down,” Quentin said, matter-of-factly. “Just look at what we’re surrounded with every day—beautiful smiles, long necks, big breasts, small waists, nice hips, apple bottoms and long, firm legs. I’m starting to think that it’s just not natural for a red-blooded man to be able to choose just one.”
    â€œBut you did,” Eamon said before he could stop himself.
    Q’s eyes glanced back over to him, his expression unreadable. “Temporary insanity.”
    Eamon’s brows leaped up again.
    â€œThat’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” He drained the rest of his drink.
    Eamon was more than willing to let the subject drop. Hell, it was already beginning to feel a little Twilight Zone –ish. How was it that he was being counseled about settling down from a man who had no shame in shopping for sugar mommas when his father had cut him off? The man had probably submitted his own picture to the good folks at Webster’s Dictionary to be inserted next to the word manwhore.
    â€œDon’t worry about me. I’ll get married when the right woman comes along,” said Eamon.
    â€œIn that case, just make sure you keep her as far away from your brothers as humanly possible.”
    Eamon tried to capture his cousin’s gaze again, but Q was having none of it. Clearly, he hadn’t meant to add that last part. The slip was a sure sign that he still hadn’t forgiven his older brother. Maybe a little more time needed to pass. Before he could help himself, Eamon wondered if a woman could ever come between him and his brothers. His instincts were to doubt it, but he was old enough to know that life was strange and complicated. One should never say never because the truth was more like: anything was possible.
    â€œHave you talked to Sterling lately?”
    Quentin’s eyes softened even though his back stiffened. It was clear that he churned the question over quite a few times before smiling back at Eamon. “We were talking about you. Not me.”
    â€œThere’s not much to say about me,” Eamon volleyed. “I’m what people call a workaholic.”
    Q rolled his eyes. “I know. I have quite a few of your kind on my immediate side of the family. My father and both brothers, remember?”
    Eamon nodded.
    â€œStill.” Quentin leaned over the bar. “We have a lot in common.”
    â€œYou don’t say?” Eamon couldn’t stop his lips from curling in amusement.
    â€œTrust fund and work ethics aside, I see us as two peas in a pod.”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œLook. We’re two