by Aria Ford
Well, calm and quiet is a good quality for an artist to have, I guess.
Not exactly an artist—I had studied design at college and now I worked for a small exclusive company called Insider News, designing furniture and accessories for homes. I loved it. All my life I had enjoyed to make things lovely, and now it was my job. Which was, I guessed, why Rodney sometimes rubbed me up the wrong way. Making things lovely and perfect, I thought wryly, takes time. Or it does usually, anyway.
Now I arranged my hair in a quick style that managed to look like I’d spent time on it. Then I donned a discreet necklace and put my head at an angle.
Not too bad.
The woman in the mirror had a soft face with big eyes, a brown color that contrasted with her hair. Her full lips were painted pale rose and the overall effect was soft and feminine.
Not bad at all, Bethany Hayworth.
I smiled at myself, an ironic smile. I was looking okay—it was a pity I was heading to a family gathering. Not likely to meet new people there, now was I?
I shook my head and stood, reaching for my clutch crossbody bag. As I slung it over my arm I told myself, harshly, to stop being so incurably romantic. I was thirty-two now, and I might as well settle down like so many of my friends were doing. I wasn’t going to meet Mr. Stunning anytime soon.
At this point, I thought grimly as I headed down the stairs, I actually didn’t mind what the man looked like if he could manage to treat me with basic decency. I was starting to think that I might never actually find someone who could meet that basic criteria.
“Stop it, Bethany,” I said harshly to myself.
“Bee?” my brother called as I appeared on the landing. It was weird to be at my mom’s home again. I had headed here for what I thought was a pleasant catch up with Rodney and Mom, and which was now fast turning into a whirlwind Rodney adventure.
“Hey, Rodney,” I called down. “I’m ready. Are we going?”
He grinned at me. Dressed in a white blazer, blue shirt and jeans, Rodney somehow managed to look boyish and stylish at the same time. One thing I had to say for him was that he steer cleared of the Dress-Like-a-Programmer movement (logo-emblazoned T-shirt, scruffy pants, ultracasual hair), and managed to make his own style niche. I smiled into his hazel eyes and he looked sheepishly up.
“Bee, you look awesome.”
I blushed. At least my little brother still thought I was beautiful. Something in my heart melted a little.
“Thanks, Rodney,” I said fondly. I patted his shoulder. “You look great too.”
“Guys?” My mom appeared, one foot in a high heel, the other bare. “The flats or the heels?”
I grinned at her and Rodney laughed. “Mom, you better decide.”
She gave him a wide-eyed, exasperated face. “Rodney, you know I can’t decide.”
I smiled gently at her. “The heels look pretty stylish. And I like the color with the white slacks.”
“Oh.” She gave me a grateful look. “Thanks, Bee. I don’t know how I’d make choices without you.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “You’d manage.”
She chose the red high heels—they were the same cherry color as her coat—and we headed downstairs.
Mom drove; Rodney went in the back. I glanced behind me as we navigated the busy streets toward the venue. He was on his phone, but now and again he looked up sheepishly. I knew that look.
“Rodney?” I frowned. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Hold on—just gotta reply to this message…”
He typed frantically away. Being a little younger than me meant he was part of the two-thumb texting brigade. To my private amusement, I still used my index finger of my right hand. He teased me about it. Mom and I teased him.
“Rodney,” I said as we pulled away again, getting closer.
“What?”
“You look stressed,” I said mildly. If that look didn’t have Rodney-made surprise written all over it, I would be amazed.
He shook his head. His thin, handsome face looked tense.
“Almost there,” Mom said, breaking my concentration. “Where’re we supposed to turn left, honey?”
“We’re supposed to turn right in a three hundred feet,” I said quickly. “Um…now.”
“Whew!” Mom turned sharply and then grinned as someone sped out from behind us, clearly mad at the casual driving style she used. “Lucky we were in the right-only lane, hey?”
I smiled and patted her hand. “I guess.”
We drew up to the hotel.
“Here we are,” Rodney said. He was fidgeting with his tie—he was wearing a tie, a pale one that tied in the faded blue jeans very nicely—and he looked uncommonly nervous.
“Rodney,” I said, drawing him aside as my mom effusively greeted Uncle Ray and Aunt Claudia. “What’s up.”
“Nothing, Bethany,” he said. Something was really on his mind, I could practically smell his worry.
“Well, then,” I said, “if it’s nothing, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
I looked about, feeling my own nerves get affected by his tension. He glanced fractionally to his right. I followed his troubled stare.
“Uh, Rodney?” I asked carefully. “Who’s that?”
Rodney licked dry lips. “Um, that’s the person I was texting,” he said carefully. “Someone I want you to meet.”
“Oh.” I closed my eyes in mild exasperation. This was supposed to be a family event! Mom’s brother and sister-in-law and Cousin Allie and us. There hadn’t been any mention of anyone who wasn’t family, and the arrival threw me badly.
Rodney, you crazy boy! You might have warned me.
I was about to say something to my brother—something pointed and frustrated—when the stranger came into focus.
He had walked up confidently. For a guy who was about to attend an anniversary event only partly by invitation, he was really contained. He was wearing a brown jacket that fit him perfectly, hugging those big, muscled shoulders, and dark pants and a cream shirt. He walked with a swagger. I felt my feet sweat as he reached up to remove the Ray-Bans in a crisp, curt move.
I stared into his hard eyes. I was lost.
“Um, Bethany, I’d like you to meet Kyle. Kyle, this is my sister, Bethany.”
I put out my hand and his firm, muscled one gripped it. I felt as if the whole earth moved slower. I felt my fingers warm in his firm, brief shake and then released. I glanced sideways at my brother, who swallowed fretfully. If this was a Rodney Special Surprise, I thought with a wry grin, this was certainly the best one he’d managed to give me.
And the worst, I thought, feeling my heart pound as we all headed up the stairs together. It meant I was going to spend a whole evening in the company of Mr. Stunning. And I had no idea at all gwhat to do.
Chapter 2: Kyle
I always feel uncomfortable at parties.
I guess it’s stupid—after all, I am the son of Dylan Beckham, one of the wealthier guys out there, a transport industry boss. I’ve attended so many parties by now that I should feel like a pro. But I don’t. Every time I get dressed up to go to a party, I am suddenly a fifteen-year-old withering under my father’s cold appraisal. My throat closes up and I stutter. I feel like a fool.
At my shoulder, latest employee and sometime friend, Rodney Hayworth, grinned at me cheerily.
“This is my sister, Bethany,” he said.
I stared. My throat went tight. She was so beautiful. With a soft, oval face, wavy pale hair and those big, melting eyes, she was all the sweetness, all the safety, my world had never had. I felt my heart thud.
“Hello,” she said. She looked down at our hands briefly. She spoke in a soft voice, like a small dove. I bit my lip, willing my stupid body not to do anything too forward. Something like get aroused.
I couldn’t help it—she was so gorgeous.
“Hi,” I said. I coughed.
She gave me a weird look—a somewhat nervous expressio
n, like she thought I might catch fire. I closed my eyes briefly.
Kyle, what are you doing? You are standing here with your hand out like some kind of crazy person. The poor woman probably thinks you’re losing your mind.
I coughed again and put my hand stiffly at my side. I could almost hear my father’s voice. What will you ever make of yourself?
“Excuse me,” I said, letting my face drop into carefully arranged neutrality. I turned to Rodney. “You reserved a table?”
There. Just the sort of frosty politeness Dad would have encouraged. If you always look a bit aloof, he’d always said, people will know you’re the real deal. Cold, aloof, uncaring.
“Yeah,” Rodney nodded. “In my name. Uh, for eight.”
“Fine.”
I squared my shoulders and walked past Bethany and her brother, striding to the door of the restaurant.
“A table for eight? We have a reservation. Name? Hayworth.”
Behind me, I heard Rodney make a nervous cough. He was my age, but he was already the senior programmer at my dad’s company—FastLane Services. For a high-powered young man, he looked really uncomfortable right now. My job was chief operations officer. That was how we met. I glanced from my chief programmer’s worried gaze to where it was directed—somewhere at my left shoulder.
Behind my back was a guy. I turned around. I was looking into the dark-brown eyes of a small, solid man about twenty years my senior. He raised a brow.
“I don’t think we know each other? I’m Mr. Hayworth.”
“Oh.”
I swallowed hard, feeling embarrassed. I glanced around for Rodney, but he was standing at the back looking distinctly uncomfortable. I was entirely on my own here. I held out my hand.
“Um, sorry, Mr. Hayworth. I should have said hi. I’m Kyle.”
I didn’t know what else to do, so I held out my hand. He shook it.
“Raymond,” he said.
Whew.
I felt a noticeable slackening of tension and let out a relieved sigh. Then I was suddenly busy meeting everyone.
“Kyle, please meet Claudia, my wife, and Bethany my sister.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, shaking hands.
“I’m their mother,” Kelsey—a gaunt, but pretty, older woman with a cloud of pale hair—said.
“Oh,” I smiled at her. I could see the resemblance. Come to think of it, she looked just like her son, only less energetic and frazzled. “Really pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Mrs. Hayworth smiled. At least someone seemed to like me. Behind her, I could see Rodney looking like he wanted to be elsewhere. I didn’t risk looking at her. Bethany. Just knowing she was behind me made me feel edgy.
“Sir, come this way,” the waiter said.
I had enough of a grasp of manners to stand back and let the family go ahead of me. I had no idea whether Raymond was the father or some other relation of Rodney. No one had actually said how the family was structured. I slipped back to stand beside Rodney.
I was stupid to agree to come to this.
I always had hated parties.
“Sorry,” Rodney said.
“Why?”
“I should have introduced you to aunt and uncle earlier,” Rodney said. “Uh, it’s a party for them.”
Beside us, Bethany made a small giggling noise. I tensed. Such a sweet giggle! I looked forcibly ahead as she turned to look at her brother, a soft smile on her face.
“Rodney, what will we do to you, eh?”
He grimaced. I heard them both laugh.
Look ahead. Don’t turn around. If you look at her, you’ll stare. If you stare, you’ll make a fool out of yourself. Look up.
I kept my eyes rigidly focused on the wall opposite, just over the shoulder of the black-clad guy who was leading us into the restaurant.
“Here we are,” Rodney said. His grin had a distinctly nervous-looking element, and I wanted to smile except that I didn’t want to make him more nervous. I drew out my chair and sat down. He was on my left. On my right was Bethany. I tensed.
Dammit, I wanted to swear. At very least you didn’t have to put me here next to your stunning sister.
A young lady in a bright red coat came to join us.
“Hey, everyone,” she said in a loud, friendly voice. “I’m Allie. Pleased to meet you.”
I saw Bethany give her a warm smile and, stupidly, I felt jealous. Not so much because I felt like Bethany owed me a smile like that, but just because I wished she’d look at me that way.
“Allie!” She said cheerfully. “Long time no see!”
“Yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s the company. They keep me flying everywhere.”
“That’s hard,” Bethany nodded.
I found myself drawn into the conversation between the two cousins—Allie was their cousin, I figured out—and listened in.
“How is work?” Bethany asked Allie.
Allie rolled her eyes. “Demanding, I guess. Though I guess not as much as yours. I don’t know how you do it.”
Bethany smiled that gentle smile. “I love my job. I’m conceptualizing a new range of home ware right now. It’s called ‘Daisy’.”
“Oh?” Allie looked fascinated. The waiter appeared at my elbow at that moment, distracting me.
“Something to drink?”
“Um…Spritz?”
The waiter nodded. I immediately looked back at the two women, frustrated at having missed out on the interesting part of their discussion. Homeware? Designing? A range called “Daisy”? I leaned in with interest. What did she do for a living? She must be a designer of some kind.
When I looked at them again, Allie was ordering something and Bethany was leaning on the table with both elbows propped under her chin. She had a dreamy expression on her face, slightly distant, slightly sad. I felt his heart flip over. She looked like a magazine cover. Ie tensed, feeling abruptly shy.
Come on, Kyle. Ask her something.
I cleared his throat. Now that I thought about it, I had very little experience of talking to girls. It was ridiculous—I was thirty! But in my youth, girls sort of came into your life when you were all high or drunk, and left soon as your heads both cleared. And in the company, the girls were colleagues—mostly junior colleagues—and they didn’t spend much time chatting. And as for dating, girls were pretty easy to come by in clubs and parties. They came because of my wealth and left because of my character.
An antisocial playboy.
I wanted to laugh as I thought that.
“Your drink, sir?”
“Thanks.”
I took a sip of his drink and sighed. Distant, yes. A good way to cover being out-and-out terrified of girls.
“Excuse me?”
Great! She was smiling at me a little hesitantly. I coughed and leaned forward.
“Uh, yeah?”
“I’m sorry, but your chair is on my coat.”
“Sorry? What? Oh!” I went red with embarassment as I looked down and noticed that her jacket was trailing on the floor and I’d gone and put the leg of my chair right on the edge of it, trapping the grayed cloth and making a brown stain on it. “So sorry.”
“No, not at all,” Bethany smiled at me. “Don’t stress about it.” She looked at me with that little frown still between her brows, as if she was a little concerned for me. It made my heart beat a little faster.
Why is she looking at me like that?
I shifted in my seat and made myself get calm. I felt the indifferent expression come over me like a shudder.
“I apologize,” I said formally. I moved my chair back.
She blinked. Then she went back to staring across the table. Her mother patted her arm and brought her attention to some other topic. The moment was lost.
Great, Kyle. You did well there.
I sniffed and reached for my drink.
“And what do you do?” Mrs. Hayworth asked me with a big engaging grin.
“I am COO for FastLane,”
I said with some pride. “Chief organizational officer,” I added when she frowned.
“Oh,” she looked surprised. “They do deliveries?”
“Buses,” I said.
“Ah.” She frowned pensively.
“Mom, it’s the same company I work for,” Rodney grinned.
“You do buses?” She said with surprise. “I thought it was delivery.”
“We do some freight too, Mrs. Hayworth,” I said smoothly.
“Ah. So, you see?” She grinned at her son, who went red. I felt sorry for Rodney, but then I saw him grinning back. His sister chuckled.
I stared at her. She was so lovely, with her head thrown back, her skin glowing softly. I had a lot of girls in my time—many I didn’t remember. But this girl was something beautiful and special. She sparkled with life and humor.
I looked at my hands. When I looked up again, she was looking at me with that soft grin.
“You are Rodney’s superior?” she asked with a teasing smile.
“Unfortunately, no,” I said with a grin. “I’m in a different department. He’s a great guy though.”
