by B. B. Miller
“Brilliant!” He claps his hands together and beams at me. “See? Riya agrees with me.”
Rolling my eyes, I try to herd him toward the front door. “Fine. But we’ll have to discuss it later. Mrs. Hamilton will be here any minute.” I hear Riya muttering to herself behind me as she wanders back toward the dressing rooms, and my eyes fly open in panic.
“Don’t worry,” he says quietly, but his smile is mischievous, and I can’t help but smile in return. “I tossed the cannoli in a dustbin with the rubber. There may be a few crumbs, but no one should notice.” At the door, he pauses and, after checking to see that Riya is still occupied, ghosts a fingertip down my cheek, smiling when I shiver in response.
He leans forward, his lips set to my ear. “I need your number.”
Damn that accent. I bite at the inside of my lip to try to keep from smiling. “Do you now?”
“Absolutely. You know, there may be a wedding dress emergency that I need to help with.” He adjusts one of my hairpins with a low hum that I feel all the way to my toes. “Mmm. This is pretty.”
“Is that right?” I squeak out.
Reaching into the inside of his leather jacket, he produces his phone and presses in a code before holding it out to me. “That’s right. And Syd’s going to be in another time zone.” His eyes drop to my lips for a moment and my heart pounds a little harder. “I’m right here. At your beck and call. Day or night in case of emergencies or… whatever.”
He wiggles the phone and I glance down at it, chuckling at the case, which boasts a distressed version of the English flag. I take the phone with an exaggerated huff, trying to ignore his satisfied smirk as I add my number into his contacts. “Why do I have a feeling I may regret this?”
I turn the phone back to him and he waves it at me. “No regrets, Cassidy. Not ever. Not with me and not in your life. It’s a horrible way to live.” I stare at him, wanting to respond, but I can’t seem to form words.
“Thank you for a lovely morning.” He taps his phone and opens up the door. “I’ll be in touch soon, Ms. Skinner.”
We’re kept busy for a few hours, and then I finally escape to my workshop upstairs. It’s one thing to design these dresses, but I have yet to hire anyone on a permanent basis to help me make them. For big orders, I have a couple girls that help put the main pieces together so I can do the final touches, but I’ve been kind of gun-shy to take them on full time. It’s a lot of responsibility. So, if I don’t schedule time for my workshop, they remain dresses only on paper.
It’s been impossible to hide the spring in my step from Riya. She’s been giving me curious looks all day, especially whenever I walk past the dressing rooms, grinning like a fool. We haven’t had time between clients for her to interrogate me. I gather my laptop bag and sketch pads and try to move quietly so I don’t disturb Riya, who’s doing the books at the front desk, but she has other ideas. “So, are we really going to pretend that man was here this morning only because he wants you to design him a suit?”
Stopping in my tracks, I turn to face her with a sigh. She’s peering at me over her reading glasses like an accusatory owl. “Yes, we are.”
“And I don’t want to ask why the dressing rooms smelled like a brothel this morning, right?”
I shift the load in my arms, avoiding her eyes. “That would probably be for the best.”
She frowns and removes her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Cassidy, that man is bad news.”
“How do you know?” I slump in an opposite chair, holding my things in my lap. “Besides, he’s the brother of a client. Be nice to him until the order is filled. Then we won’t see him again.” The realization dims the glow that’s infused me all morning.
“Of course I’ll be nice to him,” she scoffs. “And I just know. I have a feeling about him. He reminds me of my uncle—you know, the crazy one who wasted his family fortune on a fig farm.”
I bite my lips. “A fig farm?”
She waves a hand, almost flipping the pen from her fingertips. “He was the life of the party, and my aunt said he could fuck like a freight train, but he had no common sense. He didn’t know a fig about figs.”
I shake my head, trying not to laugh, and not wanting to hear another story about her crazy relatives. “Um, Riya—”
“How was your date last night? Now, he sounds like a good man.” She folds her arms under her ample bosom.
“Jack’s great.” I wasn’t kidding earlier; Jack is perfectly nice. It had been difficult to focus on him after my unexpected run-in with Sean, and even though he noticed my distraction, he didn’t push me. Instead, he led me to safer topics, like our respective careers and goals for the future. I’d had a nice time. Surprisingly so, I suppose, since I couldn’t stop comparing the two men in my head all through dinner. Jack is witty, very smart, and kind—and he has that familiar Wyoming connection going for him. Sean is like a party popper—loud, brightly colored, and you never know what you’re going to get inside. One minute, he’s blinking back tears when seeing his sister in her wedding gown, and the next minute he’s growling like a tiger while he’s pounding me into the wall.
“And…” Riya’s thick eyebrows scrunch together, making her look like a caterpillar is crouching on her forehead.
“And, what?” I tear my thoughts away from wall pounding. “It was just dinner, Riya.” Gripping my things, I rise and move toward the stairs again.
“Well, did he ask to see you again?” In fact, he had. He wants to meet me tonight and asked if I’d be willing to help him with a business opportunity he was considering. I don’t know much—anything, really—about the oil and gas business, but he said that wasn’t a problem. That a fresh pair of eyes is exactly what he needs.
Huffing in frustration, I give her a fishy eye. “Riya, I’d rather not—”
“Okay, okay. I’ll shut up.” She holds her hands up, and then gives me a fond smile. “I’ll finish with these invoices, return a few client calls, and then I have a meeting with our CPA. Do you need me to come back for the Grafton appointment?”
Grateful, I return her smile. “No, that’s fine. I can handle her and the late appointment with Harrington, too.” She waves me off, and I finally escape to my apartment and private studio upstairs. I set my laptop and materials on my worktable, kick off my heels, and walk into my bedroom to flop on my bed. My mind whirls, images of Sean and Jack on a constant loop. Sean’s green eyes staring into mine, Jack pouring my wine, the sound of Sean panting in my ear, Jack holding my door, Sean’s delighted laugh, Sean’s strong hands squeezing my ass, Sean’s crazy hair…
With a groan, I fold my arms behind my head and stare at the ceiling. Okay, Cassidy, consider the facts. Jack’s lovely, but there’s no spark there. Besides, I only went out with him to make my mother happy. So that’s done, right? Obligation met.
Except, I know my mother will want more. She always does, especially when the stakes are this high. Coleman Energy is a multibillion-dollar company. It’s going to take at least three dates before I can convince her I’ve done my part for the family, and she’ll leave me alone. At least, until next time.
A laugh escapes me when I picture my mother’s face if she were ever to meet Sean. Holy Moses, that might be worth arranging. It’d be like telling Anna Wintour that she had to wear only things from Old Navy for an entire week.
My God, the things that man can do to me. My whole body lights up being near him. It’s not just the sex—okay, a lot of it’s the sex—but it’s also his outrageous confidence, his take-no-prisoners attitude, that’s so hard to resist. He’s just so alive. Where does it come from? His sister is so, well, normal. Is it just a rock star entitlement thing, or has he always been so forward? Does he have an off switch? Surely, the man must do something to relax.
Soon, he said. Well… Sitting up abruptly, I slap my hands on my thighs, stand up, and move to my worktable. Whatever he can do to me, however he can make me feel, I’m not going to sit around and wait for a m
an. Period.
I’ve got work to do.
My phone chimes with a text, dragging me from my sewing machine. Shit. I still haven’t responded to Jack. Bad form, Cass.
Dragging my cell from my pocket, I’m mentally composing a contrite message when I see the screen and almost drop it in panic. It’s from my father’s chief of staff, Dale Canton.
“Monthly report—one image captured and neutralized. Call for details.”
Fuck. I slump back in my chair, swallowing thickly. It’s been months. Months of reports where nothing was found. So many months I’d almost dared to think it might be over.
And now this. One image, captured and neutralized. I close my eyes and try to stop my racing heart. Where did they find it? Who had it? As much as I’m tempted, I never call for details. I don’t really want to know. It’s enough to know they’re still out there. Little time bombs floating in the ether, just waiting to fuck up my life.
Taking a shaky breath, I delete the text and send up a silent prayer of thanks to my father. We never speak about it. Not since that first time. And even if we did, I’ll never be able to thank him enough for his continued vigilance.
But there’s one thing I can do to try.
Quickly looking up the number, I wait for him to pick up. “Jack? I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you. Do you still want to get together?”
Murphy’s Law No. 78: Meddling twins are dangerous.
Sean
TOSSING MY KEYS TO THE table near the door, I follow the heavenly smell of bacon. My kitchen rarely gets used unless I’m unpacking takeaway, so the smell is a welcome one. “Tell me that’s breakfast.”
Syd grins at me, stuffing a forkful of eggs into her mouth. “Mhmm.”
“Did I mention you’re the best sister ever?” I pull out a chair at the table and start filling a plate. She’s got the doors to the balcony open, letting in the morning air. It breathes new life into the place.
“I thought you’d enjoy it. You were at it pretty late last night.”
Scowling, I stack up a few slices of bacon. “You heard me? Damn, those walls are supposed to be soundproof.”
“I’m sure for anyone else they are.” She taps her temple. “Twin brain, remember? Plus, I’m still fighting the time change. I’ve been up since three thirty.”
“Ouch. Sorry, Syd. I’ll dial it back.”
She laughs, leaning back, and cradling her cup of tea between her hands. “Right. Did we just meet? Dialing back is not in your vocabulary.”
Shrugging, I dig into the meal. “I didn’t even know I had bacon.”
“You didn’t. It’s like Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard in there. I went to the shops this morning. Funny, you weren’t in bed when I went to wake you.” She eyes me warily as I devour breakfast. She’s sizing me up. Damn twin. I can’t hide a thing from her. “Where’d you run off to so early?”
“I had an errand.”
She makes some dubious sound. “Does this errand happen to have anything to do with a certain tall blond?”
I can’t help but grin. “Perhaps.” She doesn’t seem to share my expression; in fact, she’s frowning. “What? I need a suit for your wedding.”
“Because you can’t wear one of the 200 suits you have hanging in your closet?”
“I need something special. It’s your wedding, Syd. It’s important.” I bite into the bacon. Damn that’s good. Bacon should be on everything.
Letting out a long sigh, she sets her cup down. “Please don’t screw this up for me. You know how long it’s taken me to find a dress? My dress?”
“And you’ll be stunning in it.” I point out the obvious.
“As long as Cassidy doesn’t tear it to shreds because of some dumbass move of yours.”
Irritation burns through me, and I reluctantly set the rest of the bacon down. “She’s a professional, Syd. And thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m not a total arse, you know. Women love me.”
She levels me a pointed look. “Cassidy doesn’t strike me as the type to want to be lumped in with all of your women.”
“Christ, you make it sound like I have a harem.”
She balls up her napkin and tosses it at me. It lands beside the plate. “Don’t pretend like you’re a saint.”
“I’d never pretend that. I am who I am, Syd. You know this.”
“Yeah I do. That’s why I worry about you.”
I finish off the scrambled eggs, feeling her staring at me. “I’m the last person in the world you need to worry about.”
“It’s just that you seem to spend a lot of time alone.” Her voice is quiet.
I shake my head. “You’re just talking crazy now. I’m hardly ever alone.”
“Then there’s the fact that the four people closest to you are…”
“Domestically unavailable?” I offer.
She laughs, pushing up from the table to carry her plate over to the sink. “That’s one way of looking at it. Take Matt and Tess. You always thought he’d be alone forever, and now look at them.” She spreads her arms wide as if emphasizing the point. “And you know, you’re going to be thirty-eight this year.”
I point my fork at her. “As will you.”
She leans against the counter. “Don’t you ever think about what’s next?”
My throat feels tight. I don’t like people questioning my life, particularly Sydney. She knows me too well. Always calls it how she sees it, and usually she’s right, although I’d never admit it to her. “Right now, I’m thinking I’d like this conversation to be over.”
“I’m serious.”
“Syd, I love my life. Every single thing about it. I do what I want, when I want. I’m healthy, you’re happy and about to be in wedded bliss. Mum and Dad are still going strong, and I get to do what I love with my best friends in the world. What’s next? Nobody can answer that question. I’m just happy to see where life takes me; let the chips fall where they may.”
I sip my tea as she studies me. “You’d make an amazing father.”
So much for the tea. My mouthful spews across the table, causing her to laugh. “What in the hell are you on about?” Picking up the napkin she threw at me, I dab at the tea-stained white marble table.
“You heard me.”
“Of course I’d be an amazing father. That’s not even open for debate. If and when the time’s right, it’ll happen. Now is not that time.”
She frowns, glancing out to the living room. “All this space and only you rattling ’round in it. What would you be doing if I wasn’t here this week?”
I’ve about had enough of her mini interrogation. I’m an adult man who can make and own my own mistakes and run my own life, thank you very much. My chair scrapes across the floor as I push back from the table and carry my now sadly empty plate over to her. “It’s New York, Syd. There’s a million things I could be doing.”
She folds her arms across her waist, not looking convinced.
“You want me to run down my diary then?” I don’t wait for her to answer. “Today, I’ve got to check in on how the renovation is going at the music academy.” Her smile brightens. I’m already funding a course at an academy in London, and plans to open a fully funded center in SoHo have been going strong for a few months now. It’s a fabulous place Syd has helped to redesign. The loft is in one of the many historic cast-iron buildings, complete with a preserved fire escape and an expansive landscaped rooftop with strung lights and a stellar view I plan to make good use of.
“I’m so glad you’re opening that up here,” she says with a hint of pride.
Waving her off, I set the plate into the sink. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll talk about my hero-like qualities later. I’m giving you a rundown of my day since you seem to be under the false impression that my life is lacking in some way.”
She bites back a smile. “Please, do carry on.”
Rinsing off the plate, I lean against the counter beside her. “After that, I plan on having lunch. Then, I have to
check on a parcel that was supposed to arrive for Hannah yesterday but seems to be lost in a delivery vortex. I have a sync-up with Nicole.” Syd’s eyes widen. “Nicole Hays. Our PR manager, you know? About the details of the academy opening, and then I’m in the 5K mud run obstacle course tonight. Oh, and I have a gig at the Gramercy, which you’re coming to, by the way, at the end of the week.”
She hits me softly in the arm. “I didn’t know the guys were in town. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“No, not them. Grant Bishop, a buddy of mine, has an indie band. Bishops to Kings. Their drummer’s girlfriend is having a baby. I said I’d fill in.” I tug at the end of her ponytail the way I used to do when we were little. “So there, Mum. A jammed-pack day for Mr. Sean Murphy. No need for you to be filling your head with ridiculous scenarios about me sitting around in boredom and twiddling my thumbs.”
“Now, just imagine how great all of that would be if you could share it with someone.”
“I just shared it with you.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t get it yet, but someday you will. All of those little things—the day to day? Sharing it with someone who cares about it, someone who you know has got your back no matter what. It’s everything.” Syd lets out a little sigh of contentment. “Philip’s the first person I want to talk to in the morning. The one I want to share everything with.”
“Even though you’re here with me?”
“Especially because I’m here with you. I want that for you. Someone you can’t wait to talk to. Someone you miss. Someone who misses you. You deserve it.” She pats her hand over my heart. “More than anyone, you deserve that kind of love.”
I swallow back the lump that’s made an appearance in my throat and sling my arm around her shoulder and ruffle her hair. “Enough of the sappy, Syd. Soon you’ll be pulling out the rom-coms and forcing me to watch them.”
