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phone number Kern had wanted Mac to use.
It was time to make that call.
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2
KERN’S PHONE WAS BURNING A HOLE IN HIS POCKET. MAC HAD BEEN torn, feeling uncomfortable poking around in something he didn’t understand, especially when Kern said Dani would hate it. Now, though, between his promise to Kern and Dani’s odd behavior, he didn’t have a choice. Or maybe that was justification for satisfying his curiosity.
Pulling Kern’s phone from his suit jacket, Mac flipped it on. Hitting the first speed dial, the caller ID read Isabel. Jesus. It couldn’t have been Kern having the affair. But wait . . . Isabel. She’d attended Kern’s memorial. A good-looking blonde. Dani’d hugged her, but didn’t introduce her to Mac, and she hadn’t come to the house afterward along with everyone else. He didn’t have time for further analysis as he connected.
“Dani, what are you doing using Kern’s phone?” The voice husky, sexy, the woman obviously knew the number on the caller ID.
“This isn’t Dani.”
She gasped. “Kern? Oh my God. Kern.”
His stomach twisted. “No, Kern’s dead. You were at his memorial. This is his brother, McKinley Dawson.”
“Oh.” She paused. “You scared me.” She puffed out a breath. “I thought it was one of those phone calls from the hereafter.”
“You’ve gotten calls from the hereafter before?” Damn. Was she some sort of psychic scam artist that Dani and Kern had gotten involved with?
“No, I’ve never received a call. But it’s always within the realm of possibility.”
She breathed out a long sigh, as if she were trying to get her heart rate under control. “You sound like him, you know.”
Mac had never really thought about that. “Look, Kern gave me his cell phone and said to call you so that I could help Dani.”
A phone rang in the background, followed by a low voice, so he knew she was still on the line despite her lengthy silence. “Did he say how you were supposed to help Dani?” she finally asked.
“No.”
“Did he tell you who I am?”
“No.”
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“What did he say?”
“Just to call this number, tell you I was his brother, and that I wanted to help Dani. That’s it.” He paused to let it sink in. “So what the hell is this all about?”
She growled. “He said he was going to do this, and I warned him not to.”
“Well, he didn’t listen. I want to know what I have to be worried about here.”
“Nothing. Dani can take care of herself.”
He’d have agreed until he saw Dani dressed to kill tonight. “I won’t know until I hear the story.”
“Look, Mr. Dawson, Kern was a very sweet man, but he didn’t have the right to reveal Dani’s secrets without her permission. I’ve already stuck my nose into one friend’s business, and I realize now that was wrong. So I’m not telling you anything, and I won’t mention to her that you called. This is strictly between you and Dani. You figure out how to bring it up with her. Whatever she decides she wants you to know is her call.”
“You sure do know how to pique a man’s curiosity.” Except that what he felt was more than that.
“I most certainly do.”
For the first time, he heard a smile in her voice and suspected a double entendre. “Fair enough,” he agreed. “I’ll talk to Dani about it.”
“If she wants your help, feel free to call back. And Mr. Dawson, just so you know, I’m looking out for Dani, too. You really don’t have to worry.”
Damn. The woman had him going. What the hell was up with Dani? He’d thought he and Kern were so close, yet his brother had been keeping things from him. Mac was beyond being pissed at a possible affair, way past mere curiosity. His need to know was fast becoming obsession. And it was definitely not good to have any kind of obsessive feelings about your brother’s widow.
GOD, WHAT HAD MAC THOUGHT LAST NIGHT WHEN HE’D SEEN HER party dress? She couldn’t think about that now. Maybe after a cup of coffee, she’d dream up a reasonable excuse to give him the next time she saw him. Dani poured herself a mug of the strong brew, grabbed the paper off the front porch, and carried both out to the back patio. The morning sun was already warm and the air still muggy after the storm two days ago. It was the most changeable early-fall weather she’d seen in the Bay Area in quite a few years. 16
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She hoped it signaled the end of the drought.
In more ways than one.
She’d stuffed last night’s envelope in her purse to take to the bank. She preferred weeknight dates, starting and ending the evening earlier rather than staying out to all hours. The guy had been nice enough, in San Francisco on a business trip from Atlanta. He’d chosen a luxury hotel on Union Square, dinner at a hot spot on Geary, continental cuisine. It had all been so . . . ordinary, lacking the thrill she got when she had Kern to go home to. In the beginning, Kern had liked to watch her in action, though he never participated. Isabel chose clients who were into that. Kern was always making suggestions on new positions or acts he wanted her to try. There’d been times when he’d gotten so turned on, he needed to relive it all in their own bed when they got home. After he no longer felt well enough to go out with her, he still wanted to know every detail when she arrived home. The naughty recounting made it hot, sexy, and exciting for her all over again. Last night, she’d had no one to go home to. No one with whom to share the experience. She didn’t feel dirty, just tired. And alone. She’d stopped taking dates a couple of months before Kern died. For the most part, he hadn’t been the cancer patient you saw on TV, with tubes and IVs and no hair. Up until the last month, he was just tired, listless, slept a lot, and said he couldn’t think properly. That bothered him the most, his inability to process, the things he forgot, how he couldn’t come to a logical conclusion. Even his mind was slipping away from him. One night as Mac was leaving, Kern had asked him where he lived. A sickening sense of dread had settled in the pit of her stomach. Mac had simply looked at her, his heart in his eyes. Dani sighed and picked up her phone. Hopefully soon those niggling memories wouldn’t come back to haunt her.
Isabel answered on the fourth ring. They chitchatted a few moments, exchanging pleasantries, while Dani got her emotions under control; then Isabel turned to the real reason for the call. “How did it go last night?”
“He was perfect.” Perfect for what she’d needed rather than what she wanted. But having fun and getting a thrill out of it was, under the circumstances, a luxury.
“Did it help?”
Dani knew she meant the money. “I feel a tremendous sense of relief this 17
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morning.” It would take care of the mortgage, thank God.
“Now maybe you can stop worrying so much.”
“But I’d feel even better with a few more dates scheduled.” It might actually take years to get everything in order again.
“Well, I’m sure if your regulars know you’re back—”
“Actually, I’d like to do a ménage.” For a ménage, she could command a higher price. With Kern gone, this was strictly business.
“What kind? Two men? Man and woman?”
“Which can I get more money for?” It was blunt. She didn’t care. Isabel took it graciously. “That always depends on the clients we choose.”
Dani put two fingers to her lips, then blew out a breath. Kern had done all the arranging for her. Often, he went to meet the client or clients on his own first, vetting them. He always had an opinion. The guy’s dog meat—you’ll hate him. I told him no. If he thought she’d like the man, he’d whisper in her ear: Honey, this one you’ll want to swallow. I think I might be jealous. But he never was. She’d had a date with a couple once. Kern had watched from a darkened corner so they hardly knew he was there. The wife h
ad wanted to see her husband with another woman. They’d ended up sucking his cock together, and she’d helped the man make love to his wife, holding his cock, guiding it in, showing them new positions.
How she missed having Kern be a part of it. Now it was just a job.
“If it depends on the clients, then I’ll do either a couple or two men, whoever would make it more . . . worthwhile.” God, now she was going to the highest bidder.
“Then I’ll let you know when I have something.” Isabel paused. “Need I say again that I think you’re rushing things?”
“Yes, you can say it. Thank you for being concerned.”
“Is this really what Kern would have wanted?”
Dani rubbed her forehead, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. “Kern was fine with it when he was alive. Now he’s gone, and this is the only way out.”
“All right. I’ll say no more. Call you.”
She wouldn’t dwell on it, reaching for the paper instead. And froze when the screen door squeaked on its hinges. Mac stood in the shadow of the house, the sun pouring over the roof and 18
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straight into her eyes. Her heart beat so hard she thought it might pound right out of her chest.
“I rang the bell. You didn’t answer.”
“So you just walked in?” A slight edge laced her voice.
“Your car was in the driveway. The door was unlocked.” He paused. “It never used to be a problem.” Unlike hers, his tone was completely flat. She wished he’d come into the light so she could see his expression. How long had he been there? Stupid question. Even without seeing his face, she knew he’d been there long enough.
“It’s not a problem,” she said. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.”
“I don’t need coffee.”
Then what did he need? For a moment, she had an uncontrollable urge to screech at him. Get out, get out, get out. Having his brother find out was the only thing Kern would have hated. Her breath felt shaky in her throat. Then Mac stepped down onto the sunny patio and stole her breath. He was so like Kern . . . and yet not. He wore his sandy hair slightly shorter than Kern had. His eyes were a darker shade of blue. Kern had been strictly casual while Mac always wore a suit and tie. He was a couple of inches taller and five years older, but the lines at his eyes only seasoned him. His build was huskier with hard muscles, but Kern had lost so much weight the last year of his life. It was his face, though—that struck her, the same firm jaw, same cocky smile, same mannerisms. You saw them together, you knew they were brothers. Looking at him was a physical ache.
He was all she had left of Kern. She didn’t have any family of her own, her parents long gone, a car accident when she was twenty. Mac had been her only friend during the worst of it, the rock she’d clung to in those last days of Kern’s life. Maybe he hadn’t understood everything she’d said to Isabel. God, she couldn’t even remember exactly what had come out of her mouth. She could only hope and pray her end of the conversation had been fairly innocuous. He stood over her, reaching into his jacket pocket, his eyes an intense blue. Then he laid a cell phone on the wrought-iron table. Kern’s phone.
“He had a woman named Isabel on speed dial.”
She blinked, the sun burning her eyes.
“And you were just talking to someone named Isabel.” His voice was rough 19
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as sandpaper.
Her chest was so tight, she couldn’t breathe. He’d heard. He understood.
“What the fuck, Dani?”
And he’d judged.
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3
A PULSE BEAT AT HIS TEMPLE, THROBBING SO HARD IT GAVE HIM A headache.
Mac had come to talk. Rationally. He’d rung the bell, checked the door, called out her name, then followed her voice out to the patio. What the fuck? Dates, clients, a goddamn ménage? She was selling herself?
And Kern was fine with it? He’d had Isabel on fucking speed dial, for Christ’s sake. His brother was more than fine with it. Mac felt like his head might explode contemplating it all.
“Why do you have Kern’s cell phone?” Her face was blank, eyes unreadable as she squinted against the sun.
“He gave it to me before he died, right before the coma.” Then, instead of playing twenty questions, he yanked out a chair, sat so the sun was no longer in her eyes, and gave her virtually the same explanation he’d given Isabel. “He said he’d fucked up, asked me to take care of you, and told me to call Isabel’s number after he was gone. That’s all.”
Her nostrils flared with a deep breath, and a flush rode her cheekbones. “Did you call?” He couldn’t tell if her tone was accusatory or merely curt.
“Yes. Isabel referred me back to you without telling me anything. She didn’t think it was Kern’s right to involve me.” He clenched his teeth together, waited. How was she going to answer that one?
“I appreciate that you’re trying to do what Kern asked,” she said steadily,
“but I can take care of myself, Mac.”
“If what I overheard is what I think it is, that’s not taking great care of yourself.”
She pursed her lips. “Then you shouldn’t have walked in when I didn’t answer the door.”
She was fucking calm, cool, and distant. As if they’d never shared those evenings while Kern lay sleeping. There was a closeness, a bond that came from caring for someone you both loved and were terrified of losing. “Talk to me, Dani. If you want me to understand, I’m willing to listen.”
She opened her mouth, and her hazel eyes deepened with a glimmer of moisture. Then she rolled her lips, bit down, and stared at her clasped hands a 21
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long moment. “You’ll need some coffee while we talk.” She went inside, the screen door banging.
He ached for her, swear to God. She’d met Kern when she was twenty-nine, dated him for six months, lived with him as man and wife for eight years, and watched him die. She’d lost her parents when she was in college, and Kern always thought that had been part of their connection, being alone in the world, no close relatives except for Mac, no big family. Perhaps that was the reason Kern had wanted Mac to take care of her. He was all she had left and vice versa. That in itself was why he needed to at least hear her out.
She gave him the coffee the way he liked it, strong and black. Folding herself into her chair, she curled her feet beneath her. She wore jogging pants that zipped at the ankles and a fleece sweatshirt. Even without makeup, she was a beautiful woman.
“Isabel runs Courtesans,” she finally said after a long sip of coffee. She liked hers sweet and creamy. “It’s an . . . agency, and I’ve been working for her for about a year to help make ends meet.”
“Working?” The word felt harsh in his throat, his tone ugly. She bristled, glared at him a moment before settling back again. “You heard enough to know exactly what I mean. Would you prefer I spell it all out detail by dirty detail?”
In his anger, he was also being an asshole. He ratcheted back. “What about Kern’s business?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “We got in at the wrong time, with the economy in flux and telecommunications companies struggling. Most firms started doing the work in-house rather than contracting it out.”
Kern had been a damn good technical writer for a telecom manufacturer, but he’d wanted to be his own boss. With his contacts in the industry, he’d been sure he could make a go of starting up a freelance business writing technical manuals for the equipment. It was a highly specialized field. The telecommunications industry had taken a big hit, however, and the smaller companies faded away, but Kern had made it sound as if he’d been able to diversify his skills. He hadn’t given Mac a single clue they were in desperate straits.
“Things were starting to come back, more contracts,” Dani went on. “We weren’t running in the red anymore. But then he got sick, and things fell apart.”
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She tapped her finger to her lips, staring into her coffee. “He was the technical expertise. I was just administrative: the billing, purchasing, formatting, editing. The actual writing and meeting with the customers’ techs, that was all Kern.”
She finally looked up. “Even with the customers we did have, he couldn’t keep up.”
Kern never said a thing. Mac had thought everything was under control, at least until the last few weeks when Kern spiraled down so quickly. “Why didn’t he say something? I could have helped somehow.”
“He didn’t want you to think he was a failure.”
So he let his wife prostitute herself? He closed his eyes, reeling in the emotions that threatened to get away from him. “I never thought he was a failure.”
She shook her head, then swept out a hand at him. “Look at you. CEO of a highly successful company before you’re even forty-five, while his venture simply tanked. Even before he got sick. He didn’t live up to your expectations.”
“I didn’t have any expectations,” he said, his gut churning.
“But you were always one step ahead of him financially and professionally.”
“I was five years older, too. That made a difference.”
She looked him square in the face, and he felt his skin heat under the collar. Had he done that to Kern, made him feel as if he weren’t good enough? He’d always tried to give him useful advice. True, he thought Kern was making a mistake going out on his own, especially when he wanted Dani to help run the fledgling company. It was putting all their eggs in one basket. Okay, yeah, he’d tried to talk Kern out of it. For his own good. Christ. Mac thought they were close, best friends as well as brothers. Yet Kern hadn’t confided a damn thing after that, never asked for help or advice. Not until he was dying, and he begged Mac to take care of Dani. When it was too goddamn late.
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