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wouldn’t thank you for it.”
    “You always take his side, because you’re just like him!” The tears were slowly dripping down her cheeks now, and she turned away. “I bet the property in Baton Rouge happens to have two legs and big boobs. Well, have fun!”
    “I will,” he said ironically. He really was going to see some property; afterwards was a different story. He was a strong, healthy young man, with a sex drive that had shown no signs of slacking off since his middle teens. It was a persistent burning in his guts, a hungry ache in his balls. He was lucky enough to be able to get women to ease that hunger, and cynical enough to realize that his family’s money added to his sexual success.
    He didn’t care what the woman’s reason was, whether she came to him because she liked him and enjoyed his body, or whether she had her eye on the Rouillard bank account. Reasons didn’t matter, because all he wanted was a soft, warm body beneath him, taking his surging lust and giving him temporary ease. He’d never loved a woman yet, but hedefinitely loved sex, loved everything about it: the smells, the sensations, the sounds. He was particularly entranced by his favorite moment, the instant of penetration when he felt the small resistance of the woman’s body to his pressure, then the acceptance, the sensation of being taken in and enveloped with hot, tight, wet flesh. God, that was wonderful! He was always extremely careful to protect against unwanted pregnancies, wearing a rubber even if the woman said she was on birth control pills, because women had been known to lie about things like that and a smart man didn’t take chances.
    He didn’t know for certain, but he suspected Monica was still virgin. Though she was far more emotional than Noelle, there was still something of their mother in her, some deep remoteness that so far hadn’t let any man get too close. She was an awkward mix of their parents’ natures, receiving some of Noelle’s cool distance without any of her self-assurance, and some of Guy’s emotionalism without his intense sexuality. Gray, on the other hand, had his father’s sexuality tempered with Noelle’s control. As much as he wanted sex, he wasn’t a slave to his cock the way Guy was. He knew when, and how, to say no. Thank God, he seemed to have better sense picking his women than Guy did, too.
    He tugged on a strand of Monica’s dark hair. “I’ll call Alex and see if he knows where Dad is.” Alexander Chelette, a lawyer in Prescott, was Guy’s best friend.
    Her lips trembled, but she smiled through her tears. “He’ll go find Daddy and tell him to come home.”
    Gray snorted. It was a wonder how Monica had reached the age of twenty and learned absolutely nothing about men. “I wouldn’t bet on that, but maybe he can ease your mind.” He intended to tell Monica that Guy was in a poker game, even if Alex knew the number of the motel room in which Guy was screwing the morning away.
    He went into the study from which Guy handled the myriad Rouillard financial interests, and where Gray was learning how to handle them. Gray was fascinated by the intricacies of business and finance, so much so that he had willingly bypassed a chance to play pro football in favor of plunging headlong into the business world. It hadn’t beenthat much of a sacrifice for him; he knew he was good enough to play pro, because he had been scouted, but he knew he wasn’t star material. Had he given his life to football, he would have played eight years or so, if he’d been lucky enough to escape injury, and made a good but not spectacular salary. What it came down to, in the end, was that, as much as he loved football, he loved business more. This was a game that he could play much longer than he could football, make a hell of a lot more money, and was just as dog-eat-dog.
    Though Guy would have burst his buttons with pride if his son had gone into pro football, Gray thought he’d been somehow relieved