The memories of last night rushed back to him. A smoky, loud nightclub. Three friends, one who’d just broken up with her boyfriend after two terrible years. Xander had been amused to pick up a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead all at once. They’d been a good way to not think about all the other shit in his life. But this morning . . . all the shit in his life was still there. Unfortunately, so were the women.

With a sigh, he shoved his fingers into Shelby’s hair and pulled, lifting her mouth from his cock and sending her a disapproving glare. He had to pee, yes, but mostly he just wasn’t feeling it. What had seemed so entertaining last night just annoyed him now. He was thirty fucking years old. How long was he going to behave as if life was an eternal party? Then again, it wasn’t as if Javier was going to suddenly welcome him into the business with open arms and give his life purpose.

“Where’s . . .” What the hell was her name, the blonde with the ex-boyfriend? “Alexis?”

Shelby frowned. “She had an early shift this morning. Don’t you remember fucking her good-bye?”

Now that she mentioned it, his groggy brain served up the memory. In fact, everything was beginning to come back to him.

Last night when they’d first hit the bedroom, he’d stripped Alexis down and sunk directly into her pussy. Shelby had kindly undressed herself and shoved her doctor-given C-cups in his face. He’d sucked her nipples as he surged into Alexis again and again. For a girl with a boyfriend, she’d sure been sex starved.

Three noisy orgasms later, he’d finished with Alexis, and Shelby had been beyond ready. A few tugs on his cock and a fresh condom, and he’d been ready to go. Megan had been watching all the while, fingering herself. By the time he’d gotten to her, he’d let her suck him softly in the shower so he could glove up again, then given her a ride for a good, long hour. Shelby and Alexis had taken care of one another while they’d watched. Then he’d done round two with Alexis this morning before she dashed off at o’ dark hundred.

Now that he remembered, Xander wished he could fucking forget.

Rolling out of the bed, he left a disgruntled Shelby and a slumbering Megan behind. With a glance back, he grimaced. He’d enjoyed the decadence last night. But now, with morning breath and sticky sheets? Not so much.

“I’ve got someplace to be shortly, ladies,” he lied. “Help yourself to whatever is in the refrigerator. Thank you for spending the night with me. I’m sure you can find the way out.”

After a long shower, he emerged, gratified to see that the girls had grabbed their things and departed—mostly. The little pair of green lace panties on his pillow made him sigh aloud. As he wandered over, Xander could see that Megan had helpfully safety pinned a note to them with her name and phone number.

Just what he didn’t want. With a thumb and forefinger, he plucked the thong off his pillow and tossed it in the trash, then washed his hands. As he dressed for the day, he rang for the maid and asked her to change his sheets again. The older woman raised a brow, but wisely said nothing. He didn’t need more regret. He already had plenty.

Grabbing his keys, he dashed out the door, climbing into his Audi and heading to the temporary offices he’d found for S.I. Industries. Javier wouldn’t want him here, but that was too damn bad. If his brother had taken a single step to self-improvement in the last week, it had been a tiny one.

The sunlight blinded Xander as he climbed out of his car and emerged into the oppressive morning heat. He raced inside to the blessed air-conditioning, then spotted the frowning redhead at the reception desk, juggling a beautiful baby on her lap. The interior door to Javier’s office was closed.

“Is he any better today?” Xander murmured quietly.

Morgan Cole had been kind enough to stop in for a few hours each morning, her infant son in tow, and help Javier with some administrative work. In return, his brother had already bought her a new top-of-the-line SUV.

“Javier?” She glanced up from the fussing baby in her lap and whispered, “Maybe a little. He didn’t break out a bottle until eleven this morning. It’s progress.”

Was it really? Javier would still be sauced by the end of the lunch hour. Fuck. His brother slaved over his desk nearly every day until the wee hours of the morning. In fairness, he’d greeted Tyler every morning for a run and some weight lifting, then met with Morgan for yoga before coming here. Between nine and ten in the morning, everyone said that Javier looked really centered. Functional. By noon, he was stressed, wasted, and lashing out.

Xander clawed a hand through his hair, trying to smile. “Thanks. And your son?”

Morgan shook her head as the baby started to fuss. “I hate to do this, but I need to take Brice home. His fever has returned.”

That wasn’t good news. The baby needed care, but having no administrative support/babysitter, even for a few days, would put Javier further behind, send him deeper into stress—and a bottle. Xander wished like hell Javier would accept his help but . . . he knew he couldn’t push his brother anymore or he’d snap.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he assured Morgan. “Do what you need to do. Family first.”

With an apologetic smile, she rose and gathered her things. “I’ll call around and see if I can find someone who can be here for your brother. I’m not going to let him drown.”

It wasn’t Morgan’s problem, and she didn’t have to care, but Xander was grateful that she did. “Thank you.”

At the door, she cradled the baby against her and paused. “I know you’re worried and things between you two haven’t been easy, but give Javier time. He’s got some demons and he won’t let them loose. He’ll have to eventually. Maybe he’s just not ready yet.”

S.I. Industries didn’t have months for Javier to “find himself” again. He’d been reading business blogs and the Wall Street Journal. Scuttlebutt was that unless its research and development teams started showing Uncle Sam something new and snazzy soon, the government would start doing all its business with other manufacturers, like current darling United Velocity. And if it didn’t have the cash flow to prototype and build cool new military gadgets, S.I. Industries would be history.

Xander chomped at the bit to jump in, his brother’s wishes be damned, and help out. But it would only drive a bigger wedge between them. Javier was more important to him than the business. But if Javier lost his birthright, it would devastate him and probably put the final nail in his coffin. Even as a kid, his brother hadn’t taken failure well. Javier was a born leader, and his desire and aptitude to engage in teamwork had never been stellar. As an adult, nothing had changed.

“I’ve been trying to find the crash method to get him back into his head and caring about his life. We’re running out of time.”

“You’ve done a lot of the right things, even if it’s tough love.” She cocked her head as she gently bounced the whimpering baby. “Jack thinks he needs something to focus on or something to care about besides business.”

“That bottle of Cîroc isn’t going to do it,” he snapped.

“But the bottle doesn’t have expectations or judge him. He doesn’t have to feel guilt or anger or whatever’s eating him up with vodka. Did he grieve for his wife?”

Xander didn’t have the answer to that question. Francesca’s body had been found while he’d been ass deep in the sting that he’d helped Tyler orchestrate to bring down Los Angeles’ crooked assistant district attorney. The press had been swarming. Xander had done his best to leave his brother alone and draw the pesky reporters, along with the limelight, away from Javier. The brother he’d known before Francesca’s death had always been serious, focused, short-tempered, and driven. But he hadn’t been an angry drunk.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” It shamed him to admit that. “But it’s been a year.”

“There’s no limit to the amount of time it takes to grieve. Jack’s grandpère passed away two days after Brice’s birth, almost nine months ago. I still see the sadness on Jack’s face from time to time. He didn’t forget the man he loved, but he’s slowly laying him to rest. Maybe Javier just isn’t there with Francesca’s memory yet. He must have loved her very much.”

“Not at all, actually.”

Morgan winced, then softened as she glimpsed the baby sleeping listlessly in her arms. “Has he ever been in love? Really in love?”

“I don’t know. Until he married Francesca, I’d never seen him prefer one woman over another. And even then . . .” Xander frowned, ashamed to realize that he actually knew very little about his brother’s personal life. Five years’ difference in age hadn’t always made them miles apart, but lately, it certainly hadn’t helped. “I don’t know if he’s capable of the devotion you’re talking about.”

“Were your parents affectionate?”

Xander snorted. “Sure. Dad loved bending his assistants over his desk, and Mom loved Nordstrom.”

Morgan’s face was full of pity, and Xander wished to hell he’d kept his mouth shut. “So his experiences with love haven’t been great, it sounds like. I hate to sound like Dr. Phil, but maybe Jack is right and Javier needs something to care about. Or someone.”

As much as Xander hated it, the theory had validity. Javier needed something to fight for. He carried on as if he had no outlet in life except business and a bottle. Neither could make him feel truly valued. He couldn’t invest his heart in either one. But if he had a reason to care, a reason to live, how much would that improve his outlook? At the very least, Javier’s mood might improve with a good fuck. As far as Xander knew, his brother hadn’t taken anyone to bed in over a year. No wonder his mood sucked.

Mentally he flipped through all the women he knew. Francesca had been tall, thin, exotic, and dark. Xander knew more than a few of that type. Problem was, they would look at Javier with dollar signs in their eyes, not as a man who needed a little TLC to start healing.

“Any ideas where I could find this someone to care about him? I need her quick.”

Morgan raised a fiery brow. “If you’re going to be in a hurry, maybe he’s better off with a dog. I didn’t say Javier needs just anyone. He needs someone special.”

Yeah. Did that exist? Xander had been sampling females for years. Other than his buddies’ wives, all great women he admired for more than their beauty, he’d never met one he’d want to keep forever, much less one who could be his brother’s savior.

Javier opened the door to his interior office, holding the bottle of vodka by its neck. He glanced at Morgan with concern, ignoring Xander altogether. “The baby still feverish?”

She nodded, regret molding her expression. “Yes. I’ll see if I can find someone else to help you out. I’ll call and let you know.”

Though Javier desperately needed things typed, organized, and read, and Morgan had volunteered while her cable TV show was on a brief hiatus, he showed no displeasure for the disruption of her duties or the change in his own workload.

“Take care of that pretty baby.” Javier smiled benignly.

The bottle wasn’t quite half gone. Maybe his brother was still capable of a reasonable conversation. Maybe they could discuss what was lacking in Javier’s life and he could help fix it. Fuck, he was allergic to emotion. His trying to fix his brother was a joke, but someone had to.

“Thank you.” Morgan gathered the rest of her things and headed out to her car, kissing the baby’s little head, dusted with dark hair like his daddy.

Xander wondered what it would be like to love someone enough to want to put a ring on her finger and plant a seed in her womb. He shrugged. Not that it mattered. He didn’t see that happening, ever.

Javier watched Morgan, too. His expression held a gravity, a sadness . . . longing. Not for Morgan herself, but what she represented. Home, hearth, love, devotion. Forever.

And maybe, Xander mused, he needed to get laid again. Or fuck someone more interesting. That wouldn’t make his problems go away, but it damn sure would help him forget for a while.

As soon as Morgan drove off, Javier turned to him. With a narrow-eyed glare that dared him to object, he took a long draw from the bottle of Cîroc.

“Eat anything before you started drinking?” Xander asked.

“Fuck off.”

“I can tell that vodka is helping you make great decisions.”

Javier glared. “Fuck off.”

“Has your vocabulary been reduced to two words now?”

“No. Please fuck off.”

They were getting nowhere, and Javier was hating him more every day. Xander would put up with his brother’s enmity for the rest of their lives and be the fucking scapegoat, but only if Javier came back. Xander was taking a huge gamble with the last of his family, and he hoped the plan didn’t blow up in his face.