Stirring Up Trouble

by Kimberly Kincaid

  Thank God he hadn’t taken off his suit jacket before the ceremony. Not that the image of her had grown any less intense in the three hours that had passed since the minister had said, “You may now kiss the bride.”

  Come on, Gavin thought as he stood in one of the shallow alcoves dotting the perimeter of La Dolce Vita’s bar area. There was no chance he could fight that kind of reaction when her dress was sex with a designer label. Go the extra step of putting it on Sloane’s lean silhouette instead of a padded hanger, and of course he was going to take notice.

  Often.

  Gavin’s gaze drifted across the restaurant’s warm green and terra cotta dining room, landing on the lady in question for the hundredth time tonight. His breath went haywire in his lungs just as it had the other ninety-nine times he’d clapped eyes on her, but he was well past trying to do anything about it.

  The slip of black fabric molded to Sloane’s body, its skinny little straps and the long stretch of silk hugging her lithe angles as though she’d been poured into it inch by inch. It shimmered when she moved, not in a flashy way, but with the suggestion that there was something warm and decadent built into the fabric. The plunging neckline and side slit revealed just enough to drive a guy crazy wondering what she had on—or more to the point, didn’t have on—underneath it.

  Sloane’s intoxicating laugh, both musical and robust, filtered across the candlelit dining room. As hot as the dress looked, it was nothing compared to the lit-up purity of her smile, like she’d simply bucked biology and decided to exhale happiness instead of carbon dioxide. Any guy with a pulse would be helpless to do anything but stare at her.

  But then, she hadn’t caught just any man with a pulse shamelessly staring at her as the ceremony began. She’d caught him, and red-handed didn’t even begin to cover it. No wonder she’d only given him and Bree a drive-by hello as she mingled with the crowd during the reception.

  Gavin grabbed a glass of sparkling water from a passing server and filed the thought under forget about it in his brain. Whether or not Sloane caught him staring, it didn’t matter in the long run. Yes, she looked unbelievable in her dress, but it wasn’t as if he was going to do anything about it.

  No matter how badly he wanted to.

  “Can we go home yet? They already cut the cake.” Bree’s grumble interrupted his heated thoughts, and for once, he was grateful for the churlish distraction.

  “Glad to see you made it back from the bathroom with your good mood intact.” His attempt at humor fell prey to her frosty stare, leaving him to silently lean a forearm against one of the bistro-style tables in their nook by the bar.

  “It’s hard to be in a good mood when you’re the only kid hanging out with a bunch of old people. I totally stick out.”

  “You did just fine talking with Bellamy and her fiancé, Shane, during dinner,” Gavin said, purposely ignoring her jab. He had strategically chosen to sit with members of La Dolce Vita’s staff in order to increase the chances that they’d stick to polite, work-related conversation. That way, there would be less of a chance that someone would ask questions about their mom that might make Bree uncomfortable. For the most part, it had worked like a charm.

  She sighed, a long, drawn-out sound he’d been hearing a lot of lately. “No, you did just fine talking to them. I don’t have anything to say about food, or cooking.”

  Bree crossed her arms in a petulant knot and leaned forward on her bar stool, dropping her elbows to the table. Things had gone back to normal since their kitchen incident five days ago, with her offering the usual litany of complaints and him doing his best to counter them with patience he had to summon from somewhere around his toes.

  Gavin’s smile tightened a notch, but he refused to let it fade. “Still, I work with a lot of nice people. You should give them a shot.”

  Her frown was ever persistent. “None of them even know me. I don’t see why I couldn’t have just stayed at home.”

  “Because I needed a date, remember?” Damn, his supply of calm was running low. Where was the happily social kid he used to call his sister?

  She resorted to one of her dramatic eye rolls, but Gavin refused to let it bother him. “Come on, Bree. I know it’s not ideal, but could we at least try to enjoy the party, a little bit? We don’t have to stay much longer.”

  An oddly familiar, cinnamon-spicy scent preceded an even more familiar feminine voice by less than a second.

  “But where’s the fun in that?”

  Sloane’s words hit him with a jolt, and he made an abrupt half turn toward her, only to find himself inches from her sparkling blue eyes.

  “Hi, Sloane. You look nice.” His inner voice let out a serious snort at the understatement, but he smothered it with what he prayed was a casual smile.

  “Thanks, boss. You look . . . like you always do. Fantastic suit, serious face.”

  His smile broke into genuine territory. “Thank you, I think.”

  “You’re very welcome.” She turned her attention to Bree, and Gavin noticed with surprise that his sister’s sour face had softened a notch. “Don’t tell me you two are ditching out on Pine Mountain’s event of the year before it really gets started,” Sloane teased. “Now that I’ve finally gotten all the requisite socializing out of the way, we can kick things up a bit. Come on, Bree. I won’t even ask you to write an essay about it. Cross my heart.”

  She leaned in farther, and oh hell, her dress was even sexier up close, with a scattering of glossy beads emphasizing the deep V of the neckline. And did she have to smell so good, all dark and sweet like a decadent crème brûlée?

  Gavin cleared his throat and double-checked to make sure his jacket was buttoned. “Bree’s a little concerned because she doesn’t know anybody, that’s all.”

  Bree’s cheeks turned pink, her flush paving the way for a brand-new scowl. “And Gavin’s a little concerned because he doesn’t have a real date,” she flipped back with an overly angelic smile.

  Damn it, why did she always think he was picking on her? He scrambled for something to smooth over Bree’s attitude, but Sloane just laughed that infernally hypnotic laugh that told him getting her out of his head was a complete impossibility.

  “Lucky for you, I can help on both counts. Come on.” She jutted a slender arm, elbow first, in Bree’s direction.

  Bree’s frown was heavy with suspicion. “Where are we going?”

  “Jackson’s cousin has twin daughters about your age. They’re right over there, by the entryway to the main lodge. If you want, I can introduce you.”

  Bree snuck a glance past the stacked stone fireplaces and cozy seating arrangements in La Dolce Vita’s front room, unable to hide the interest lighting her eyes. “Anything’s better than hanging out with a bunch of geriatrics. Okay, I guess.”

  Across the room, the two blond girls giggled together in typical preteen fashion. Maybe if Bree finally made a friend or two in Pine Mountain, she’d hate it here less. Still, Gavin felt a little burble of worry.

  “Don’t go too far, okay?”

  “I can’t believe you don’t trust me to walk across the restaurant without getting into trouble.” Her whisper came out more like a hiss, and she whipped her arms back over the front of her sweater. “I’m thirteen, not three!”

  Oh, for the love of God, couldn’t they go one day without having a blowout? Why did she have to turn his concern into the Spanish freaking Inquisition?

  Gavin lowered his voice, willing false calm over every word. “I trust you. I just want to make sure you’ll be okay, that’s all.”

  Bree looked poised for a fight, her lightly freckled brow furrowed in determination, but before she could open her mouth, Sloane took Bree’s hand and folded it into the crook of her arm.

  “Oh, Sadie and Caitlin will take good care of her. Plus, Bree’s a smart cookie. She won’t do anything she’s not supposed to. Right?”

  The move seemed to shock the argument right from Bree’s lips, and after a pause she said, “Ri
ght.”

  Sloane shifted her focus back to him, brows raised. “Okay?”

  She made it sound so easy, so no-big-deal, that he softened. He hadn’t meant to overreact, and after all, Bree was right. She wasn’t a little kid anymore. Gavin worked up an apologetic look for Bree, startled to see the same sentiment sweeping over her face, too.

  “Sure. Go have fun. Just come find me if you need anything,” he said.

  With the scowl wiped from her face, Bree agreed with a nod. The resolution prompted one corner of Sloane’s mouth to kick up into a victorious smile.

  “Okay, then. I’ll be right back for you.”

  “For me?” Gavin blinked.

  Her smile curled into a smirk, sparking a gleam in her crushed-velvet eyes that shot right through his body.

  “I promised to help both of you, didn’t I? As soon as Bree here is comfy with her new friends, you’ve got yourself a real date.”

  Gavin didn’t know whether to be taken aback or turned on, but as he watched Sloane’s hips swivel in the same flawless, drop-dead sexy rhythm that had been driving him mad all week long, he had the feeling he was in for a long night. While he’d managed to tamp down the memory of their heated kiss enough to avoid a repeat performance, something about Sloane’s pouty, pink mouth and the unadulterated laugh that spilled from it without warning made him want to chuck the rules. In another life, that might’ve been okay, but now? There was more to think about than simply what he wanted.

  Even when what he wanted was packaged in a dress that could cause nations to crumble.

  From his vantage point by the bar, Gavin surreptitiously watched Sloane lead Bree past groups of people knotted in conversation to arrive at their destination by the door. After just a couple of animated gestures and a deep peal of laughter that shot through him from halfway across the room, Sloane had managed to single-handedly integrate his standoffish sister into the small group of girls standing by the entryway.

  For someone claiming to be the antinanny, Sloane was one hell of a quick study.

  He was about to turn his attention elsewhere and give Bree a bit of privacy when she leaned her head in to listen to something one of the blond girls said. Her lips tipped upward, breaking into a sweet, unabashed smile. The sight of Bree’s face, lit with something other than anger or sullen nonchalance, detonated in Gavin’s gut like a firecracker with a too-short fuse.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen that smile.

  “Occasionally, I have a good idea, don’t you think?” Sloane reappeared at his side, nodding over her shoulder at the girls, who clustered together like brightly colored grapes on a summer vine.

  How bad for him could Sloane really be if she was willing to do something like that for his surly sister?

  “Or do you not think it was a good idea? I mean, they’re right over there, and I just thought . . . well . . .”

  Gavin had been so distracted by his thought that he’d almost failed to notice the strange expression trickling over Sloane’s face, as if all her seductive certainty had been carried away by a stiff breeze. For a breath, she seemed unvarnished, like a completely pure version of the brazen woman he knew, and his pulse log-jammed in his veins.

  With that vulnerable look casting shadows over her face in the low light by the bar, he wanted her now more than ever.

  “Oh, uh, no. Not at all,” he said. Okay, no matter how attractive that glimpse of her had been, stammering wasn’t going to earn him any points in the suave category. “I should thank you, actually. If I’d encouraged her to go over there and make friends, she’d probably have told me it was an epically stupid idea.”

  “Ouch. That’s a pretty steep price to pay for putting her on the spot,” Sloane observed, slipping her graceful frame into one of the two tall chairs in the cozy nook.

  Gavin drew back in surprise. “I put her on the spot? She’s the one who gave me a hard time.”

  Sloane leaned in, splitting the distance between their bodies by half. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Pointing out a lady’s unease in public tends to make her feel self-conscious. Especially if the lady in question is full to brimming with preteen hormones.”

  It took Gavin a few seconds to attach the label lady to his kid sister, and then a full minute to link the ideas together in a way that made sense. “So, wait. All that attitude was because I said she was uncomfortable?”

  Sloane sighed like he was a lost cause. “You said she was uncomfortable because she didn’t know anybody. As far as she’s concerned, you might as well have told the whole room she has no friends.”

  “But I didn’t say that.” And damn it, as much as he hated it, Bree didn’t have any friends. Not that he’d have ever said so, because he wished like hell it wasn’t true.

  Sloane’s words seeped past his automatic defenses and he paused as they soaked in. Wait a second . . . had he inadvertently said so?

  Seriously, there had to be a secret decoder ring for this stuff.

  “Of course you didn’t.” Sloane lifted her shoulders as if all of this hormone-fueled cloak-and-dagger business made perfect sense.

  “That’s a hell of a logic leap for someone who claims to have no experience with kids,” he said, realizing only after the words were out that they might offend her. Wonderful. At this rate he was going to piss off the entire room, one woman at a time.

  But Sloane just laughed. “Oh, my knowledge about kids is nil. All my experience in this matter comes from the belligerent-daughter department.”

  “You?” he asked, certain she was pushing the boundaries of the truth. “Come on. You’re an independent woman with a successful career. That hardly qualifies as belligerent.”

  Like any red-blooded guy hiring a romance novelist to watch his sister, Gavin had Googled Sloane the first day she’d spent at the cottage. Her writing credentials were as impressive as she’d claimed; in fact, she’d left out the little tidbit about her last book hitting the USA Today bestseller list. How could her parents not be proud of that?

  “Yeah, my mother missed the news flash on that one. According to her, my business cards should read Sloane Russo, black sheep of the family.” Sloane’s smile stayed firmly attached to her face, but her jaw ticked ever so slightly, betraying the effort she was making.

  “Because you’re a writer?” Something about it just didn’t compute. “What does your father think?”

  The hitch in Sloane’s movement was noticeable, but she answered softly, “I don’t know. He died of colon cancer when I was nineteen.”

  The words punched him right in the gut. “I’m sorry.” Somehow, the default answer didn’t feel like it was enough. Especially now that he knew first-hand how hollow it could be.

  “Thanks.” She measured out a tiny smile. “Anyway, embarrassment notwithstanding, Bree’s still a little hard on you, huh?”

  The observation prompted a sharp tug from deep in his belly that hollered at him not to share. “I’m getting used to it.”

  Desperate to shift the focus of the conversation, Gavin plucked a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing server and pressed the flute into her hand. “Sorry, I’m not really doing a good job here. I’m supposed to be your date, right?”

  “Now you’re being hard on you, too. And for the record, I’m supposed to be yours.” Sloane grinned, taking a healthy sip from her glass. Her dark brows popped in surprise. “Wow, I was too nervous when I made my toast to actually taste this. It’s really good.”

  His lips tingled with the urge to break into a satisfied smile at her approval. “I know. I chose it.”

  “You took it off the tray, Gavin. Let’s not get crazy.” Sloane’s laughter folded around him like sun-bleached laundry, fresh from the line, and for the first time, he didn’t fight the streak of goodness it left in its wake.

  “No, I really chose it. As in, Carly asked my advice on the best champagne to serve, and this is what I picked.”

  “Huh. Guess she hired you for mor
e than just your chiseled jawline.”

  Gavin cocked his head, a little bit surprised and a whole lot intrigued. “My what?”

  Sloane clamped down on her bottom lip in a move he swore would undo him, but before he could prompt a more detailed answer, an unfamiliar voice uttering Sloane’s name snagged his attention.

  “Sorry to interrupt your conversation,” the woman said, smiling pointedly at both of them. “But I thought I should come over and say hi.”

  “Hey, Jeannie! You’re not interrupting at all,” Sloane chirped, a little too eagerly. “Actually, I guess I should’ve introduced you two before.”

  Remorse flickered over Sloane’s face while Gavin was certain that confusion covered his. The petite blonde snuffed out both with her all-American smile.

  “Oh, honey, please. You’ve been a little busy tonight, don’t you think? Plus, it’s my job to annoy the girls and go around introducing myself to their friends’ parents.” She swung her attention to Gavin and extended a slender hand. “Jeannie Carter. I’m Sadie and Caitlin’s mom.”

  Realization trickled in as he followed her gaze to the spot where Bree stood with the two blond girls, along with a grateful rush. At least he wasn’t the only person who wondered about other kids’ parents. “Gavin Carmichael.”

  “Nice to meet you, Gavin.” Jeannie flashed her pearly whites again, making her look more like a former cheerleader than the mother of two preteen daughters. “Though I hate to admit, I’m not without ulterior motive.”

  “That sounds kind of ominous,” Sloane said, lifting a glossy brow.

  The back of Gavin’s neck prickled. “Is everything okay?” He turned to scan the restaurant again for Bree, but Jeannie shook her head, her sleek ponytail swaying emphatically.

  “Oh, nothing’s wrong. I just promised Sadie and Caitlin that I’d take them to the Main Street diner tonight. Apparently, it’s the place for middle schoolers to hang out. Now that dessert is over, they’re raring to go. We thought we’d ask Bree to come along.”