by Mia Sosa
Barry’s directive jostled her back to reality. A relationship with Daniel would be professional suicide, of course. She could imagine it now. Ian would ask, “So who’s the secret admirer?” And she’d say, “Remember our new client? My secret admirer’s the CEO.” And the fact that Ian was in the position to ask that question itself was a problem. No. She wouldn’t allow this to go any further.
So she returned to her office and typed out a text to Daniel.
Thank you for the flowers, the lunch, and the song. Everything was perfect, and I really appreciate that you went to all this trouble for me. Still, you haven’t changed my mind. I have to do what’s best for me. Hope you understand. See you next week.
There. She’d made the right decision.
So why did it feel so wrong?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mimi’s angst over her nonrelationship with Daniel continued into the next week. For several days she moped around, unable to shake the feeling that she’d lost a chance to experience something special with him..
And he’d never responded to her text, which compounded her agitation. The silence would be broken soon, however, because she was on her way to the Cambridge Group’s offices to prepare the guys for their appearances in a short promotional video for the firm’s website.
When she arrived, Felicia wasn’t sitting at her desk, but she could see from the reception area that Amar, Jason, and Spencer were already waiting for her in the conference room.
“Hey, guys,” she said as she swung open the glass door.
The men greeted her with less enthusiasm than usual.
She took a seat across from Amar, expecting Daniel to take the seat opposite the head of the table. No way would she put herself in his direct line of sight. She pulled her legal pad and a pen from her briefcase and set them on the table. “Is Daniel on his way?”
Spencer looked at Jason. Jason looked at Amar.
“What?” she pressed. “Am I missing something?”
“He’s not coming in today,” Amar replied.
Mimi smoothed her features, hiding her annoyance and shaking her cross-legged foot instead. “But I cleared this date with Felicia. She keeps his schedule.”
Spencer spoke up first. “She’s relatively new, Mimi. She didn’t know, and his schedule was clear for a reason.”
“Didn’t know what?”
Amar sighed. “He never comes to work on this date.”
Mimi took in the men’s morose expressions. Even Spencer, the continually happy one among them, wore a frown. Jesus. She knew of only one meaningful date in Daniel’s life that would make him shun the world: the anniversary of his twin sister’s death. “Is today the date his sister died?”
Amar leaned forward. “He told you about Pamela?”
She swallowed. Hard. Amar’s surprise all but confirmed that Daniel didn’t share this piece of himself with just anyone. And though she felt selfish thinking about it now, she liked being not just anyone to Daniel. “Yes, he told me.”
Amar confirmed the answer to her question with a nod. “This is the one day of the year he allows himself to be sad. And he prefers to be alone.”
Mimi wiped her clammy hands on the front of her slacks. “Okay. Well, it’s not a big deal, really. We can reschedule.”
“We could go over our parts now, and then you could follow up with Daniel another day,” Jason offered.
“No, I think it makes more sense to wait. Besides, there’s something else I have to do.”
Amar smiled. “He’ll be at home.”
Her hands shook as she returned the pen and pad to her briefcase. Was she that obvious, or was Amar that perceptive? Ah, screw it. This wasn’t the time to worry about that. Daniel was in pain somewhere. “Would you mind giving me his address?”
Jason cleared his throat. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Mimi. He—”
“I’ll write it down for you,” Amar said.
Jason glared at Amar, who shrugged halfheartedly.
Any other time, she might have used diplomacy to navigate around Jason’s objection, but her mind was focused on Daniel and how he must be feeling today. Amar handed her a Post-it with Daniel’s address written on it. Murmuring her apologies, she rushed out of the conference room thinking about nothing but Daniel. She had to see him.
* * *
Mimi dropped her grocery bags on the stoop of Daniel’s townhouse in Georgetown. After pressing his doorbell, she wrung her hands. As she waited for him to answer, she admired his street. Rows and rows of homes, each distinct from the next, lined both sides; a mix of trees—beech, maybe—shaded Daniel’s side of the block.
She stood motionless and listened. Quiet. It blanketed the street like a protective veil, giving the neighborhood a serene quality. For a few seconds she could even forget that she was standing in the nation’s capital, a place known for its movers and shakers. She’d never considered this historic area of the city for a future home because it was too pricey, but she certainly understood its appeal.
Engrossed in her observations, Mimi took a few minutes to realize Daniel hadn’t responded to the doorbell. Maybe he isn’t home? If Daniel had adopted an annual ritual on the anniversary of his sister’s death, though, she doubted it involved interacting with the outside world. She rang the doorbell again, this time pressing on it continuously. If annoying him got him to answer, she’d happily oblige.
Then a thought occurred to her. What if he loses himself in sex as part of his ritual? She let go of the buzzer and embarrassment flooded her senses. Her cheeks warmed, and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She blinked her eyes furiously as though doing so would bring clarity to her muddled state. What am I doing here? An even more frightening thought entered her mind: I don’t want him to be with someone else.
She scooped up the grocery bags by their handles and rushed down the stairs. But the rough unlatching of a deadbolt stopped her before her feet hit the pavement. Shit.
She turned and swallowed, readying herself to apologize for the disruption. Daniel’s body filled the doorway, and she took her first good look at the man she’d come to visit.
Fuck a duck.
She’d seen him in athletic gear, yes. She’d even caught glimpses of his naked chest that night in Puerto Rico. But nothing had prepared her for the sight of Daniel in low-riding jeans—and nothing else—with the sun shining on him as though he were its god.
“Mimi?” he asked, his brows knitted in confusion.
His garbled voice made her wonder if he’d seriously forgotten how he knew her. This was a bad idea. If she hadn’t known that before, she certainly knew it now. His face bore no traces of the charm he’d used to disarm her countless times before. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, and he already sported a five o’clock shadow. His current appearance simply didn’t mesh with the picture of him she’d filed in her brain.
God. She’d intruded into his personal space, and she had no right to be here. “Sorry. I…the guys told me where to find you…but this was a bad idea. I’ll go.”
“No, wait,” he said. “Is everything okay?”
“I should be asking you that, right?”
He lifted his arm and raked his fingers through his hair. So much activity accompanied the single movement that she didn’t know where to look first. Muscles flexed everywhere—his biceps, his chest, and his stomach fought for her attention. She wanted to clap and tell him to do it again. She was a terrible, terrible person.
He straightened. “I’m fine. Did you want to come in?”
“I’ll stay a few minutes, if that’s okay?”
He opened the door to let her pass. “I’m not the best company today, but sure, come in.”
To say that her first impression of his home did not jibe with his public persona would have been an understatement. A grand staircase, in rich cherry wood, greeted her from the entrance. Down a long hall filled with period details and hardwood floors, she glimpsed a modern kitchen. To her right, a living area wi
th a large fireplace and a massive couch drew her eye. A bow window in the back corner created the perfect nook for reading. “This is gorgeous, Daniel.”
“Thanks,” he said behind her.
She turned to him, trying to gauge whether he was irritated by her unexpected visit. More than anything, he appeared wary. “Did you decorate it yourself?” she asked.
“Nah.” His gaze fell on the bow window. “Someone did it for me.” He pointed to the bags in her hands. “What do you have there?”
“Oh. These,” she said, raising her bags to chest height. “These are the makings of the best ice cream sundae you’ll ever have. Oh, and margaritas if you’re into them.”
“Going for all the major food groups, huh?”
“There’s no such thing as a wrong time to eat ice cream—or drink margaritas, for that matter.” She lowered the bags. “If you’re not up for them, maybe I could just stow the ice cream in your freezer until I leave?”
“No, no,” he said with a smile, the first one she’d seen since she’d interrupted his plans. “I want to taste the best sundae I’ll ever have.”
She gave him a wide smile before her gaze dropped to his chest. Yup. Still bare. “Lead the way.”
He smirked. “Let me throw on a shirt first. Feel free to make yourself comfortable in my kitchen.”
“Mi casa es su casa?”
He scrunched his face playfully. “Wow. Your Spanish accent’s awful. We’ll have to work on that.”
Seeing the smile on his face, she knew then her decision to come had been the right one. But she had to remember why she was here: to comfort him. Nothing more.
Hear that, brain? Nothing more.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Daniel climbed the stairs in quick steps, and when he disappeared from view, Mimi took her groceries into the kitchen. To her surprise, he kept the pantry well stocked and the drawers organized. She found the perfect bowls for the sundaes and began laying out the contents of the recipe she’d perfected in grad school: brownies, vanilla ice cream, strawberries, fudge sauce, and Godiva Liqueur. She did a body roll in anticipation of eating the sinful dessert.
She’d just begun to mash the bottom layer of brownies into two small bowls when Daniel walked in.
His face was damp, like he’d just splashed water on it. “I’m going to have diabetes after eating that.”
“You’ll eat it and love it. No junk food haters allowed, okay?”
“Okay,” he said as he sat on the stool in front of the counter. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, just watch the magic happen.”
He swiped a slice of strawberry and dropped it into his mouth. “So is this a favorite recipe from your childhood?”
“God, no. My mother didn’t cook or bake.”
“Who did?”
“We had a live-in housekeeper who basically ran the house. She cooked and cleaned. Read bedtime stories to me, too.”
When the sundaes were done, she held out a bowl for him. “Is it okay to take these into the living room, or are you a stickler about food there?”
“I’m not a stickler about much, and that is definitely not a pet peeve of mine.”
They plopped onto the couch at the same time, smiling at each other.
He ate a spoonful and closed his eyes briefly, savoring the taste. “It’s good,” he said as he dug his spoon into the bowl for a second mouthful. “It’s really good.”
She moved the contents of her sundae around in the bowl as she worked up the nerve to explain why she’d come. “Okay, so I’m just going to say this. The guys told me it’s the anniversary of Pamela’s death”—he shuddered at her verbal reminder—“so I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and maybe cheer you up. And saying it out loud makes me feel stupid because ice cream sundaes and margaritas aren’t going to change what happened, but I don’t know…”
Daniel’s eyes cleared. “It’s fine, Mimi. Really sweet of you.”
The knot in her stomach unfurled. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“If I say no, will you let it go?”
“Yes.”
“Then, yes, you can ask me something.”
“Why do you take the day off? What does it accomplish?”
He set the bowl on the coffee table, laced his hands together on his lap, and said nothing. The silence stretched beyond a minute, until he drew a deep breath and answered her. “The day she died was the worst day of my life. Think about that for a sec. People throw around that phrase all the time. But that day? That was the worst day of my life. And I relive it each year, because I can’t just forget her, right? It seems wrong not to take time to remember her. So I do, but I don’t trust myself to be around people when I do.”
“What do you think will happen? In public, I mean.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never tested myself. Maybe I’ll flip out. Maybe I’ll get angry and say something really hurtful to someone. No matter what, I won’t be the Daniel people know and love.”
“Is that such a bad thing? Not being the Daniel people know and love? It’s like you don’t allow yourself to be human. People hurt. People cry. People grieve. How are you different?”
“I’m not. But I have parents who hurt, who cry, who grieve. I have to be strong for them. Our family’s been through enough already. And since my sister killed herself after a long bout with depression that she kept hidden from me, it’s hard to get upset about much.”
She covered his hand with hers. “Other than her death.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Right. Other than her death.”
“Are you angry with her?”
“God, I hate that question.”
“Sorry. You don’t have to answer that. I think I’m being counterproductive.”
“No, you’re not. You’re the first person I’ve talked to about this. My parents certainly don’t want to talk about it. For years, they just tried to smother me without really acknowledging that she was gone. I think they were worried I might hurt myself.”
He dropped his head and plucked the sofa cushion with his fingers. “I hate that question because the answer is yes. You know, if I’m being one hundred percent honest with myself, I’d have to say I resent her.” He looked up at her then. “Isn’t that fucked up? I’m the one who lived, and I resent her for dying. I’m a selfish, egotistical bastard.”
“Why do you resent her?”
“Because she didn’t confide in me. I was her fucking twin.” He pounded his chest as he said it, and she jerked back in response, wanting to give him the space to release everything he’d been holding back for God knows how long.
“Why didn’t she tell me how she was feeling?” he continued, his voice so strained she could feel the ache in her own bones. “And she left me to pick up the pieces. To watch my parents grieve for her. Even though I was twenty-six, it was a lot to handle.”
She shifted to her right, creating some distance between them, and then she patted her lap. “Come. Put your head here. I think you need it.”
His chest collapsed, as though he’d finally lost the battle to appear invincible in her eyes, or maybe it wasn’t as much a battle lost as it was a layer shed. He’d let her see him at what he considered his worst. To her, that showed strength, not weakness.
Slowly, he lowered his head to her lap. With only his profile visible, one would never know the pain he held inside. But he’d shared his pain with her, and the intimacy of their conversation humbled her.
“My sister would have liked you,” he whispered. “All that strength and vulnerability in one package. You two are kindred spirits.”
Her heart banged against her chest. Once again, he’d delved beneath her exterior and thought about her as a person, not an object. Not many men had bothered to even try, and certainly none had touched her heart the way he did. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a meaningful conver
sation with a man that didn’t involve her job or his fumbling attempts to get her into bed.
She massaged his scalp as she thought about what he’d told her.
After several minutes of quiet, she felt a tear drop onto her thigh. Her hand in his hair froze. Not knowing what else to do, she continued to weave her fingers through his hair until his even breathing signaled that he’d fallen asleep.
Her heart ached for Daniel. For his sister. Also for herself, because despite her best efforts not to be drawn to him, she wanted more from him than was wise. What exactly constituted more, she had no clue. But she wanted it.
And it was bound to end in a disaster.
* * *
Mimi blinked her eyes open and checked her watch. Over the course of two hours, they’d rearranged their bodies on the couch, fitting themselves into an intimate embrace while they slept. Daniel lay in front of her, his entire length stretched out on the couch. Mimi lay behind him with her arm across his stomach.
His even breathing nearly lulled her back to sleep, but the reminder that she’d come here on impulse forced her awake. This midday excursion hadn’t been planned, and she hadn’t told anyone at the office not to expect her to return before the end of the day.
But she couldn’t help herself. Before she could think better of it, she pressed her body into Daniel’s, enjoying the feel of her breasts against his back. Needing more, she brushed her fingers against his stomach. The heady combination of hard muscle and soft skin there momentarily drugged her senses.
Then reality returned. Oh, my God. She was molesting him.
Disgusted with herself, she drew back, causing him to stir.
Eyes closed, he moaned and stretched, and she could feel his muscles flexing against her skin.
Pure torture.
“Hey,” he said as he sat up, his eyes sleepy and his voice soft.
“Hey,” she said as she righted her clothing. “I have to get back to the office.”
He scanned the room and settled his gaze on the cable box’s digital clock. “It’s almost four o’clock.”
