by Lee, Nadia
“Blame your soon-to-be-nephew.” She yawned. “He kept me up last night, kicking me in the ribs.”
“Sounds painful. So listen… You there by yourself?”
“No. Luna’s here.”
Luna was the housekeeper. “What about Brooke?”
“She’s out getting some art supplies. Why?”
“You’re converting one of the guest rooms into the baby’s nursery, right?”
“Yup. I have Brooke’s sister Sandy coming in this week for the flooring.”
“Have you already hired an interior decorator?”
“Not yet. I’m not happy with anything I’ve seen so far.”
Perfect. “Why don’t you ask Brooke?”
“I already did. She said she didn’t know anybody good.”
“No, I mean ask her to do it.”
A short pause. “You mean have Brooke be my interior decorator?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think she’d be interested.”
Was she serious? All this time, his sister, Brooke’s best friend, had no idea? “Trust me, she’s gonna be totally one hundred percent interested. Just ask her. Do it today.”
“You think?” She sighed. “It’s just hard to make decisions. I keep changing my mind.”
Pregnancy hormones. Poor Gavin. “If you don’t like it, you can just redo it later. But I think Brooke will do a great job. You’ve seen what she did with her apartment, right?”
“That’s true.” He could tell she was thinking about it. “Maybe I will ask her.”
“Do that. By the way, I’m sending another crateful of baby stuff.”
“Pete! You really shouldn’t.”
“But I want to. This is my first nephew. I plan to spoil him rotten.”
There was a smile in her voice when she said, “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
* * *
Brooke deposited the paint and brushes in the studio before going to see Amandine in the study. A Mozart piano sonata played on the stereo system.
“You really think the baby can hear that?” she asked.
“I know he can.” Amandine rested her hands on her belly. “He gets all quiet. But if I have Rammstein playing, look out.”
“You do not play Rammstein in this house.”
“Why not? They’re German.” Amandine smiled. “By the way… Well, don’t feel like you have to say yes, I know you’re busy and all. But…”
Brooke gave her a wary look. “What?”
“If you’re okay with it, I’d like you to decorate the baby’s nursery.”
“You would?”
“I know it’s sort of sudden and random, so I’ll understand if you don’t want to bother.”
“No, it’s not that, but… Will Gavin be okay with having me do it? Doesn’t he want to hire a pro?”
“Believe me, he doesn’t care who I hire as long as I’m happy. Pregnant wife and all that. So, what do you think?”
“Well…yeah. Sure! I’d love to.”
“Great. I can’t wait to see what you do with it.” Amandine sighed. “God, that’s a huge relief. You know how I hate leaving things up in the air.”
Brooke nodded, thinking back to her conversation with Pete about people not liking unfinished business. She looked around the room. “I’ll just dive right in. It’ll be fun.”
“I guess it just goes to show,” Amandine said.
“Show what?”
“That you never really know about anyone, even your best friend. But Pete was right.”
“Pete?”
“Yeah. He called and suggested that I hire you.”
“Oh he did?”
Amandine nodded. “I mean, I would have asked you a while back if I’d known you were interested.”
Brooke crossed her arms. “What else did he say?”
“He’s sending more stuff for the baby. But that’s about it. Why?”
I’m wondering just how drunk he was last night. “Is Pete like you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Can he hold his liquor? Or is he a lightweight like you?”
“Pete? Are you kidding?” Amandine laughed. “He could drink everything in Gavin’s wet bar and still be sober.”
“How sober?”
“‘Drive home with no problem’ sober.”
Brooke narrowed her eyes. She’d let down her guard because she’d assumed he was too drunk to remember anything. Damn it. It bugged her he knew more about her than she was comfortable with. It made her vulnerable.
“Do you mind if I take the rest of the day off?” Brooke asked. “I don’t feel very well.” I’m going to kill your brother.
Amandine’s face clouded with concern. “Sure. Whatever you need. Luna and the staff can keep an eye on things and help me.”
“Thanks.”
Brooke drove her little Nissan over to Gavin’s office. Calling would have been pointless. Pete would just evade, and it was more difficult to get what she wanted over the phone.
Gavin’s firm was housed in a skyscraper with perfectly smooth and glittering sides. The Lloyds Development, which was Gavin’s family business headed by his brother, had built the structure. Inside the marbled lobby, two security guards sat behind a postmodern desk as flat and straight as a hyphen. They both wore dark navy blue uniforms. The younger of the two had eyes full of suspicion and a thin unsmiling mouth that made him look like a displeased fish. The older man was in his late forties with a receding hairline and pockmarked olive skin. “Hello, Brooke,” he said, in a raspy smoker’s voice. His smile was friendly, unlike his younger partner who watched her like she was some kind of psycho killer.
Not too far off given her murderous mood. “Hi, Billy.”
“This is Gavin Lloyd’s wife’s personal assistant,” he said to his partner. “You here with Amandine?”
“Nope. Just me.”
“Oh. Gavin left a few minutes ago,” Billy said helpfully.
“I’m not here to see him.” She signed her name in the visitor’s log.
Billy waited, but she didn’t elaborate. He meant well, but loved to gossip. It wasn’t necessary for everyone in the building to know she’d come to see Pete.
She went up to the top floor where the elaborate reception area was located. Sally rose from behind the receptionist’s desk, a tiny bluetooth headset hooked around her left ear. She was wearing an azure knee-length dress that looked spectacular, especially paired with a white jacket. But then she always did have great taste. “Hi, Brooke. Did you have an appointment? Gavin’s not in right now.”
Everyone assumed she was there to see Gavin. But then there was that incident a few months ago when she’d broken through his admin Hilary’s defenses and barged into his office. He still owed her for that one since it had helped him save his marriage. “Actually, I’m looking for Pete Monroe.”
“Oh.” Sally cocked her head. “Down that hall.” Her well-manicured index finger pointed at the middle corridor. “Seventh office on the left.”
“Thank you.”
Brooke started down the hall. Pete must be doing great to have an office on this floor with Gavin. And the seventh office too. Gavin’s was on the opposite end from the reception area, and it was the ninth door. Gavin often arranged offices to show who was doing the bang-up job at his firm.
Pete’s door was open. Brooke walked into the most barren space she’d ever seen in her life. There was a desk, a chair, a laptop and a big external monitor. She shook her head, not sure whether to laugh or flee in horror. Was this some kind of jail for analysts who left work too early?
Pete was frowning at his laptop, his fingers tapping on the keyboard. Then he looked up. “Oh, hi.” His mouth spread into a smile that started a slow rise in temperature in her belly.
Damn it. You are not happy to see him, Brooke. No. No way.
“This is a pleasant surprise.” He came around her and closed the door.
He looked disgustingly healthy in a fre
sh suit. A silvery gray tie accented with red bars had been slightly loosened. His eyes were beautifully alert, not even a tinge of hangover on his handsome face. She wanted to smack him. Then jump him immediately afterward.
Neither would be appropriate, so she zeroed in on her main purpose.
“How could you trick me like that?” she asked. “You pretended to be drunk.”
“What? I drank a lot. You saw.”
“Amandine told me you can drink a platoon of marines under the table.”
He came closer, until she could feel his body heat. “That’s never actually been confirmed.”
“What were you trying to pull?”
“The truth.” She could hear satisfaction in his voice. “And I got it. What’s wrong with that?”
“The way you did it is so…low.”
“Really?” He raised both eyebrows. “You wouldn’t have done it if you were in my shoes?”
She glared at him. Of course she would have done the same if she was curious. But she’d be damned if she would admit it. “The question is irrelevant, since I can’t pull it off.” She crossed her arms. Then something else occurred to her. “Exactly what did you tell Amandine to get her to ask me to decorate her nursery?”
“I said you might be good at it.”
Brooke narrowed her eyes.
“Don’t worry. She doesn’t think you’re going to quit to pursue your dream or something.” His fingertip tapped her tight mouth. “Don’t be angry at the opportunity. It’s a risk-free way for you to try. See if you like it.”
“Whether I like it isn’t the point. Amandine’s the one who has to like the work I do, and frankly, I don’t think it’s nice to use her like this.”
He brushed her hair out of her face and cradled it gently. Her heart hammered, ignoring her instructions to remain unmoved. “If you told her you wanted to try, do you think she would’ve said no?”
“No.”
“Well then.” He gestured at his barren walls. “And you know, I never used my office decoration budget.”
“I noticed,” she said dryly. “This place looks like a jail cell.”
“Yup. And I want you to do something with it.”
“What?”
“It’d be a shame to let all that money go to waste.”
“But—”
“And an office isn’t a nursery, so it’ll be a different type of challenge for you. I think you should go for it.”
“What’s the budget?”
Pete frowned. “I think…around thirty grand?”
“Thirty grand?” Her eyes almost popped out of her head. “For this single office?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know if I should. It’s a lot of money. You should get a real decorator.”
“You seem pretty real to me. Say yes.”
She chewed on her lower lip. She still had her job with Amandine, the assistant gig that paid her bills. “How am I going to explain it to Amandine?”
“What’s there to explain? She won’t care.”
“So you think there’s nothing wrong with me telling her I’m too busy to do my real job because I’m decorating your office?” Oh how she hated people who assumed she was some kind of glorified burger flipper.
Pete considered. “So decorate my office after hours if you want. I’m not in any rush, and Gavin’s started going home early, so you won’t have to live at their house until Amandine has the baby.”
“But…”
“You know you want this, Brooke.” He leaned closer until their breaths mingled. “Say yes.”
She started to drown in his eyes. Oh, what the hell. “Yes.”
Chapter Six
PETE COULDN’T HELP HIMSELF. He dipped his head and kissed her delectable, plump mouth. She moaned softly, her body swaying to his. He pulled her closer, sliding one large palm from her shoulder down to her tight, firm ass.
God, Brooke was all sugar and spice, the perfect combination.
The feel of her in his arms with her mouth locked firmly on his sent his head spinning. It was better than his old memory, better than innumerable fantasies since then.
Eight years ago, he hadn’t had any finesse or restraint. He’d compensated with overabundant enthusiasm, and he’d often wondered if she wouldn’t have left in the middle of it, her face unreadable, if he’d been more skilled.
So he took his time. Learning the contour and the shape of her lips, her body. He tasted her slowly, savoring every nuance. She was all softness and curves, yet there was more than a hint of strength in her lean muscles. Citrus and soap laced her feminine scent, intoxicating him. She was vibrant life and woman, and he pulled her closer to him, fitting her tightly against his body.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, she rubbed slowly along his hard cock, her movement sinuous and mind-destroying.
“Yum,” she murmured. She moved back just far enough for her fingers to trail a hot path down his torso to his crotch. She caressed his erection gently but firmly through his pants.
He groaned. “You’re killing me.”
“Am I?” she whispered, her lips grazing his neck where his pulse throbbed.
“Ahh…” He took her wrist and pulled her hand away from him with a great deal of internal conflict. His mind protested, What the hell, man! Don’t do that!
But he had to. She deserved more than an office quickie for their first time together. When he finally made love to her, it’d be in a bed with all the appropriate props: lit candles, a chilled bottle of her favorite wine, everything else she liked. She would never look at him and see her best friend’s kid brother again. No, she’d remember the things he’d done to her and know he was a man, fully grown and capable.
She breathed in, air shuddering inside. “This wasn’t what I had in mind when I came in.” She licked her slightly swollen lips. “You drive me crazy, Pete.”
A fierce satisfaction rolled through him. “Let’s wait until this evening. I’ll come by with some takeout.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll cook something.”
He blinked. “You will?”
“You took me out twice.” She rested her hands on her hips.
The posture thrust her breasts out, and he could make out the faint outline of her pointed nipples. Waiting until that evening was going to be agonizing.
She was looking at him expectantly. “Well?”
“Huh?”
“I asked if Italian’s okay.”
“Ah. Yeah. I love Italian.”
“Great. I’ll see you tonight.”
“What about the decoration job for my office? I wasn’t kidding about that. I really want you to do it.” When she hesitated, he added, “You gonna let me work in this ‘jail’ for life? Talk about cruel and unusual.”
Finally her face softened. “Don’t worry. I’ll start on it as soon as I’m done with the nursery for your nephew.”
* * *
A little after seven, Pete showed up at Brooke’s apartment. How had he been able to get away from work this early?
The table was already set with a bottle of good Chianti she’d bought, two wine glasses, fresh salad, a basket of warm garlic bread and pasta with a simple meat sauce. Brooke was a big believer in every woman having at least two or three easy recipes they could use to entertain, and she’d taken a cooking class. Basic Italian never led you astray, especially when your guest was a man.
Pete walked in, kicking off his shoes. He’d lost his tie and jacket before coming up. The top two buttons on his dress shirt were undone, fully revealing the column of his strong neck. His face was smooth, so apparently he’d shaved before coming over.
He handed her a bouquet of cheery daisies. Nothing as conventional and predictable as roses from Pete.
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. I thought of you when I saw them.”
“That’s…sweet.” Had any man ever bought her flowers just because they reminded him of her?
She put them in a vase an
d placed it on the table.
“Everything smells amazing,” he said.
“Thanks. You’re just in time.” She smiled. “Hungry?”
His blue eyes zeroed in on her. “All sorts of hungry.”
“Great.” She took off her lime green apron and tossed it over the back of her chair, fully revealing her sleeveless golden top and azure mini skirt. “Let’s eat.”
“Before we do that…” He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a deep kiss. She smiled, then melted against him as he tasted her with the kind of single-minded determination she associated with foreplay.
Heat pooled in her belly, and her hands came up of their own volition to wrap around his muscled biceps. Christ, he felt incredible, so big and strong. Very different from the Pete from eight years ago. He wasn’t a kid she could push away with ease. He’d fight to get what he wanted, and right now, it was clear that what he wanted was her.
Her body quivered, wanting to get closer, but he nipped her lower lip playfully, then helped her take her seat.
“What was that about?” she asked lightly, trying to cover up how much the kiss had affected her.
“I always like to sample the dessert before the meal.” He smiled.
Her skin felt superheated. So after dinner, they were really going to go for it. Well, of course they would. And finishing what they’d started eight years ago would give them a fitting closure. One that would allow both of them to decide their chemistry was great, but really wasn’t worth risking further awkwardness for.
Right?
Pete spoke briefly of work. She enjoyed listening to him, though she didn’t quite follow everything he said about the financial markets. There was a reason she’d majored in English, not math or finance.
“Wait, so you’re helping Gavin manage his family’s money?” she asked.
“Uh-huh.” Pete bit into the crunchy toast. “This is amazing.”
“I know. I made it,” she said with a grin. Garlic bread was her specialty. “I guess he trusts you a lot. I know things were tough with the Lloyds for a while.”
“Oh I don’t know. Technically, none of them were really in trouble, and Gavin isn’t the type to let them become homeless or anything. But I guess the idea of the youngest brother taking care of everyone felt kind of odd. They always expected The Lloyds Development to keep them flush.” Pete gestured with his fork. “Tell me something. What’s that black fan looking thing?”
