by Melissa Blue
Wade curbed the urge to flip him off. “Why is that?”
“You didn't see her face when she first walked up and saw you.” Grady took the empty bottle out of his hand and thumped Wade on the head with it. “Do you trust me?”
Wade would ask a similar question before doing something underhanded. “I'm a bad influence on you.”
“That means yes,” Grady said in a bright tone. “I'll talk to her. You sit here, breathe until your hands steady, and if we have to, we'll cancel the event. Nothing is more important than your well-being.”
“No.” He exhaled and felt somewhat steadier and less shitty. “I'll be fine. Won't like a minute of it, but I'll do it.”
Grady crushed the bottle and tossed it into the trash. Apparently that gave him the time he needed to stall. “Are you sure?”
“Don't make me punch you.”
“You're sure.” Grady placed a hand on his shoulder then pushed him. “Also, stop scaring me. I'm going to get gray hairs soon.”
Wade knew that, and hated to be that kind of burden. “Yeah. I'll be ready to do this stupid lecture.”
*****
Why was her stomach in her throat? Grady seemed capable, and the man was Wade's brother. By default that meant he'd known Wade longer, and knew exactly what his brother suffered from—should be able to provide the best remedies to help him. He wouldn't need someone flailing around him, completely out of her depth, making sure he was okay.
She pushed from the office wall and glanced up to the steps that led to the forum's doors.
“Goddamn students.”
They talked on the stairs and blocked her view. She paced to the desk on the other side of the room and tried to settle her nerves. Grady could handle it. Wade hadn't argued when his brother had sent her away so on some level, her...client didn't need her for this. It was his call. His health.
But was Wade okay?
She turned on her heel and went back to glaring from the office's door. The students parted as Grady climbed down the steps. They stared at him both in awe and a little fear. She'd asked around and had found out Instructor Addison was a good teacher, but strict. She tried to convince herself he was a good brother even though he'd left Wade alone outside instead of putting him in a car and driving him away from the college.
And then she reminded herself, Wade was a client and jumping on Grady the moment he walked into the office would be unprofessional.
Right.
She waited for his foot to clear the threshold. “Why did you leave him outside? By himself? Does he need to go home? Is he okay?”
Grady's brows pulled up, but she'd dealt with Wade—without choking him—so the brow held no threat for her. “He can deal with it. He's ready to do the lecture.”
His brother had a panic attack and that was Grady's reaction? “I see.”
He shrugged and strode to the desk. Like some lord of the manor, he perched on the edge. “I'm sure you can understand.”
She had to swallow down her first few replies. “Understand what, exactly?”
“My treatment of Wade.” He winced like he was searching for the right word. “He's...you know.”
He was an ass. No one, not even Wade would argue with that, but moments ago she'd seen him pale, just shut down as he tried to breathe. Even if Grady was used to this, why didn't he still worry? Wade was a general pain in her ass, but standing there watching him, she'd never felt so useless, helpless.
Sophie spoke slowly, softly. “Since he's an asshole, it's okay to leave him alone. Is that what you're saying?”
Grady shrugged again, this time a flicker of annoyance wrinkled his brows. “I have things to do after his talk...”
Oh, so he was done with this conversation, and his brother's problems. Sophie narrowed her eyes. “While you go do those things I'll...” She crossed her arms. “Look after my client.”
“Why do you care? Why would anyone care?”
A surge of protectiveness washed through her. Without thinking she took a step forward. If she choked him, Sophie wondered how angry would that make Wade. He'd probably thank her if Grady was an unfeeling prick.
Breathe.
She tried and did her best not to stare daggers at him as she cooled her temper. All she could remember was the way Wade's hands had shook in hers. All the interviews, radio spots—hell her when she pissed him off, none of that had shaken him. A hollowness gnawed at her gut. Was the stress finally getting to him? Did they need to pull the plug? Nothing mattered but him being okay.
And his brother...Wade had talked about the man like Grady was a good guy. Apparently not.
Breathe.
Finally she could talk without biting his head off. “I assure you, it's not a problem for me to look after Wade.”
“Thanks. The less I have to deal with him, the better.”
She clenched her teeth for a moment. “I'm sure.”
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “You're a keeper, Ms. Lake.”
The last thing she wanted was a compliment from him. “I better give Wade his lecture notes, and double check he actually wants to go ahead with this.” And maybe start my car in case.
“Go ahead and waste your time.” He gestured for her to leave and never in her life did she want to punch someone so bad.
But she was a professional. She kept her calm as she made her way back outside. The first sight of Wade and she could breathe easier. His gaze was clear and there wasn't any more sweat.
He frowned. “What's wrong?”
He could tell from one look how she felt? “I had the pleasure of speaking with your brother.” He remained quiet, and she didn't want to talk bad about Grady to Wade. “He seems...nice.”
His frown deepened. “What did he say?” he pitched the question slowly.
“Oh, in the nicest way he informed me he didn't have much time for you.” Apparently she couldn't hold back the rancor.
“Did he, now?”
“I hope your friends are more supportive.” She balled her hands to keep from touching him. “Are they?”
He rubbed at his mouth, still looking confused. “If I called them.”
“And you're not?”
He shook his head. “I'm fine.”
She scoffed. “I'll be the judge of that.”
“Will you?”
“You shouldn't be alone. I can—”
“You're not canceling the event.”
The sharp announcement brought her up short. “We don't have to. I can cancel the rest of the run.”
“Did I tell you it's too much?” He raised his brows.
“No.”
“Then it's a go. Respect that.”
Who would have thought a day would come where Wade was fighting to do publicity? “Okay.” But...her stomach refused to settle. “And I'm not leaving you alone afterward until I know you're fine, not man-fine.”
A smile threatened his mouth. “Man-fine?”
“You could lose an arm and still won't go to the hospital. That's man-fine.”
“And woman-fine?”
She snorted. “Just shy of murdering you. And before you get your hopes all up that I'm caving on my point, I'm not going home with you. I'm taking you to dinner.”
“Because my brother is a shit?” He laughed, the smile that blossomed with it made him breathtaking. “Believe me when I say he's a very good brother.”
She hadn't seen any evidence of that. “Sure.”
He laughed harder and shook his head. “I'm such a bad influence.”
“What?”
“You were an asshole to him, I guess.”
She should have been, but she also hoped her biting tone left some scars. “I was polite.”
He raised a brow and she couldn't help but see the resemblance with Grady for a moment. She'd never tell Wade his brow had a haughty, intimidating tilt to it. “Are you ready?”
“I need my notes then let's get this over with.”
She pulled out the index cards fro
m her pocket. “Your enthusiasm leaves me warm and fuzzy.”
He stood then chucked her chin. “I'll be brilliant, sweetie,” in a deadpan voice that still managed to convey his annoyance.
If she didn't have principles, she might have melted on the spot and kissed him. “You're never going to let me live that down.”
“No, sweetie.” He gestured for her to go into the forum hall.
She smiled at him. “Fine.”
He chuckled. “I'm about to lose my life?”
Sophie headed toward the forum hall without answering first. She made sure she swished her hips extra hard. Wade always watched her ass when she walked away.
“Jesus Christ,” he said.
Her smile widened, and she considered them even.
And Wade was okay.
CHAPTER
Ls
Sophie parked her two-seater in front of a pizzeria and Wade had to look at her with surprise. “This place?” he asked.
She glanced out the window at the building. The restaurant sat two miles away from his home so he knew the neighborhood well. The busy area had low crime rate and definitely wasn't upscale. He'd never eaten there but that's because he preferred Mexican food to Italian.
“What's wrong with it?” she asked.
The woman wore shoes worth a thousand dollars, and he'd yet to see her in a pair of jeans. “It's normal.”
“You had a panic attack and I won't take that comment personally.”
Pity. “Yeah,” he said, a bit sour and stepped out of the car.
The cool breeze flowed over his skin and it was a welcomed respite. The lecture had gone well despite his...the hiccup. He had a pocket full of business cards, and Sophie had added places they could consider next.
All was fucking well with the world.
He glanced at her. It took her a while to catch up to him. She'd worn the red heels, the ones that made her walk slower. The shoes put them almost eye-level to each other, and usually she put them on when she needed a boost of confidence. He'd noticed that a few weeks ago.
Tonight they became his favorite shoes. She'd watched him during the lecture with a soft gaze, her full lips pursed and those fucking legs crossed. Every now and again she'd bounce her shoe with the tip of her foot. Sexiest damn thing he'd ever been tortured with and his dick was on the verge of mutiny. He appreciated the distraction. Wanting sex apparently kept him from flipping out again. Who knew?
That was an aside. He propped open the door for her, and had the pleasure of leering at her ass when she passed him. She cleared the entrance and turned in time to see his gaze skate up.
“What?” he asked.
“Behave or I'm going to consider you okay and leave you.”
She wouldn't. She was flirting with him because she was probably still worried. He let her. He wanted to beat back the bite of exhaustion from the talk, from having to deal with people and the attack with something light and normal—like flirting. Wade planned to say something way out of line when a squealing woman attacked Sophie from behind. He held back the urge to beat the woman off to save Sophie. Good thing too. She turned around with a grin and hugged her attacker.
“You look good, Dani,” Sophie said to the woman.
Dani flicked her gaze between them. Her dark brown hair brushed her shoulders at the subtle move. Italian, all right. Her olive skin flushed when he smiled. “I see you're doing well.”
His Girl Friday did her best to pull Dani aside and whisper a correction.
He said, “I'm going to sit while you gossip.”
She put a hand on her hip. “What we do is not gossip.”
Dani murmured, “It's so gossip.”
Sophie ignored the woman. “What we do is um...an anthropological ritual—”
“You've gone to too many of my talks.” He quickly scanned the room for a good table and left her alone.
The place had one good dark corner, and that worked fine for him. The menu convinced him the restaurant wasn't a normal pizzeria. They listed the ingredients used and boasted about the handmade pasta and breads. They also had a storage cellar for the cheese. Even the wine impressed him. Should have known Sophie wouldn't go for a regular pizza place.
Her hip sway caught his eye. He took his time meeting her gaze. The heat was there as always. He settled into it, having missed the warmth while she talked to Dani.
“We'll, uh,” she cleared her throat, “we'll have someone to get our order in a little bit.” She slipped into the chair across from him.
She was too far away. Reaching across the table to pick her up and set her on his lap would be bad. He toyed with his napkin to give his hands something to do instead. “We're special guests, I assume.”
“Very. A few years back Dani's father was going to lose the place. He was sick, couldn't run it like he used to. She ran her own bakery and couldn't take it on. I fixed the problem.”
“How?”
“People will pay a lot of money for pastries and authentic Italian food. I had them merge the businesses, and hire trusted family members who remembered the old country fondly.”
“Pizza is very American.”
“The way I sold their pizza to the public, it was very Italian.”
Not surprised by that either. Wade chuckled. “Has anyone ever told you how dangerous you are?”
“Everyone who has ever gone against me. That's how I know I'm doing real well.”
He couldn't argue, especially when they both knew she was right. Hell, they both knew he liked that about her. There wasn't much he didn't. And she still refused to give in. He pulled his forearms from the table, frustration burning in his veins.
“What?” Sophie asked.
“I'm hungry.”
There was no question what he meant. His voice had been too gruff to mean food. He wanted to drag her to a quiet place. They could talk about her principles and how they didn't apply to him after sex.
This stalemate had to end, and it was up to him. She wouldn't be happy about the change, but he'd make her thank him for every orgasm he'd give her. Wade's head got a little woozy thinking of all the ways he'd make her come.
Sophie cleared her throat. “Then I recommend the Alfredo and all the bread.”
She needed the lies and he'd give them until he could end the stalemate. “All of it?”
Her relieved sigh could probably be heard across town. “At one time or another I've tried the bread and loved all of it.”
“Suggestions for non-alcoholic beverages if I'm going with the Alfredo?”
“Go with the lemonade. Handmade. They bring a pitcher of it to the table.”
He pushed the menu away. She'd never picked up hers. “All right.”
“You're agreeable.” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
He'd take that emotion over pity any day. “I've been thinking, and I've come to the conclusion you're an only child.”
She tapped her fingers on the menu. “Change of subject, I see.”
“Yup. Only child, for sure.”
Her fingers stilled. “What makes you say that?”
“Not just an only child, but one spoiled shy of rotten.”
“You grew up with a heartless prick for a little brother. Of course you see me, well-rounded and outgoing...”
His little brother had convinced Sophie he didn't give one shit about Wade. So much so she'd taken Wade to dinner. Sophie, who had avoided anything with him that wasn't work-related, in case things got a little too personal.
Grady was the goddamn MVP.
He rubbed his mouth to hide his smile. “Your deflection is a yes.”
“Because you're wrong,” she said in a prim tone.
“Wrong?”
She grinned. “I was rotten until I hit twenty-one.”
He chuckled at the punchline. “What happened?”
“The trust-fund my grandfather left me vested, and I realized I couldn't blow my way through it.”
“Trust-fund baby. That's disgusting, M
s. Lake.”
“Says the egghead who had every Ivy League frothing at the mouth. I'm pretty sure your parents never said a bad word toward you.” She pursed her lips and seemed to think on that. “Probably explains Grady. He's resentful you were the golden child.”
No one ever had anything bad to say about his brother. Probably never would either. This was a little entertaining. “Why are you so mad at him?”
She picked up the napkin and laid it across her lap with care. “It's just—his behavior struck a chord. You don't leave someone when they need you.”
Didn't require a rocket scientist to figure out the culprit. “Angelo is a man who would do evolution a favor if he didn't procreate.”
Her reply was interrupted by the delivery of bread. They ordered. She took her time buttering up a slice. He picked at the crust to decide if he would like it. Since the crust was the best he'd ever tasted, he demolished two more pieces before they brought the wine and lemonade to the table.
In a knowing tone, she said, “Told you about the bread.”
“My memory is fine,” he said with emphasis.
She poured herself wine and then for him a glass of lemonade from the pitcher. “Cliff notes aren't enough for you?”
“The only person who can give my brother shit is me.” Which was partly the truth, and he was using her soft underbelly as leverage. He wanted to know and for once she was talking to him, not giving him a to-do list.
She flustered. “I'm sorry.”
“Not why I said it. I want to know from you what happened.”
“Answer something for me first.”
His stomach locked. “What?”
“Why be an asshole at all? You can be nice, polite. You're not incapable.” She put up her hand. “Okay. Sometimes it's an impulse, but ninety percent of the time it's a choice.”
He pulled his lemonade closer. “What is nice?”
She stacked the menus on top of each other. “What do you mean?”
So fussy. “What is the construct of 'nice?'”
The way she smiled while shaking her head made him think she thought he was fussy too. “You really love that word: construct.”
“And I'm waiting on an answer.”
She drained her wine and he had to laugh. “The basic definition is pleasant.”
