Indecent Encounter: The Silverhaus Affair

by M. S. Parker

  “Hey, Sissy.” It was Zach. He dropped his backpack and opened his arms.

  I stared, my brain refusing to accept what I was seeing. “Zach? What? How…”

  My foster brother laughed and pulled me into a hug. I was so shocked I let him hold me a few extra seconds, and only pulled back when I felt his hand sweep gently over my hair in a decidedly not brotherly move.

  “What’re you doing here in Holland?”

  “You didn’t think you could send out a distress signal and not get a response, did you?” He was grinning broadly as he picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, waiting for me to invite him in.

  My jaw dropped as I remembered what I’d said to him last. I'd been upset, thinking about going home...shit. I'd never told him that things were better.

  “So when do I get to meet that playboy scum of a boss of yours?” Zach asked, stepping around me and walking into the foyer.

  “Well, I’m still not sure. But…”

  “I bet he thinks he can take advantage of you,” Zach said, eyeing the rich furnishings with a look of disgust. “A life of money makes people think they deserve things. Think other people should just give it to them.”

  I wanted to tell Zach how Alex wasn’t like that, but suddenly that sounded so lame, so naïve. “We can’t talk here. Let’s go into the kitchen.”

  Zach tossed his backpack on the wide kitchen island and opened the massive built-in refrigerator. He grabbed a soda, cracked it open, and took half a dozen gulps.

  “Wow. That was a long flight,” he said. “But it was worth it.”

  He smiled at me, and I had to smile back. Zach’s hair was rumpled, and there was a rough shadow of stubble across his face, but his eyes were bright. Zach was always smiling. That was one of the traits I loved about him the most, but now it felt too warm. Too little like a brother. I'd forgotten how persistent he'd been about his less-than-brother-like feelings for me.

  “I missed you,” he said.

  “You didn’t need to come,” I said with a sigh. “I was being silly, everything’s fine. In fact, I’m working on a film project now, helping with rewrites. Alex and I are…”

  “Working together?” Zach asked, raising a brow. “Hmm. Sounds like he’s making you do more than housework. Is he paying you for the writing? Or is that just another one of the bonuses he expects from you?”

  “Well, it’s my first time writing a screenplay. I wouldn’t expect to get paid and this is good experience. I love the writing. I think it could be a career for me,” I said. “And in this business, getting a foot in the door is really important.”

  “Good.” He placed his soda can on the counter. “After you’re done with this summer maid gig, I’ll introduce you to that producer I met.”

  “Alex is a producer.”

  “He’s a spoiled rich guy. You can do better than that,” Zach said, and plopped onto a stool at the kitchen island. “Karl can’t wait for you to get home.”

  I leaned on the counter. “How is he?”

  Zach scratched the back of his neck and his eyes darted down.

  Crap. That wasn't good.

  “Neglected. It’s so crowded there, I don’t think he’s had more than three therapy sessions this month,” Zach said, squeezing my hand.

  It was hard to hear, but I had to know. I was flooded with guilt. Seeing Zach, sitting here and talking to him made it all so clear. I'd been living in a bubble. I needed to get my priorities straight. I needed to start thinking about home.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Alex

  “We have a guest joining us for lunch,” Jamison said, startling me out of a rather pleasant daydream of Chelsea in a slinky black dress as we walked the red carpet for the film premiere.

  I’d just been imagining unzipping it, running my fingers down her spine, when Jamison had interrupted.

  “What the…please, tell me it’s not April or my father.” I said, sitting up straight in my chair. I didn't need that headache right now, not when things seemed to be going so well.

  “It’s Chelsea’s foster brother. His name is Zach.”

  “Foster brother? Here? In Holland?” What was he doing here? I gave myself a mental shake. “That’s right, she said she was adopted.” My stomach tightened. I wasn't ready to meet her family. “What the hell, Jamison? You could’ve told me he was coming.”

  I was snapping at him, but I was pissed at myself. Once again, Jamison had the scoop on Chelsea’s life and I didn’t. I hadn't even known she'd had a foster brother in addition to Karl. Jamison pursed his lips and cocked an eyebrow at me without saying anything.

  There were probably hundreds of things he could tell me about Chelsea, but the point was that he knew and I didn’t. For all our intimacy, Chelsea hadn’t opened up to me yet, but I knew most of it was my fault. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that most of our conversations revolved around me. Maybe I was an egotistical rich kid after all.

  “I guess it’s my own fault. I never gave her a chance to tell me,” I said.

  Jamison relaxed a notch and said, “I’ll make sure she knows he’s welcome to stay.”

  “I’m excited to meet him.” Okay, so maybe that wasn't the exact right word, but it was better than telling Jamison about the knot in my stomach.

  Jamison’s lips quirked up at the corners. “I believe the feeling is mutual.”

  His tone made my shoulders stiffen. “Oh, shit, is he some protective big brother? He probably knows about the website where we met. He wants to kill me, doesn’t he?” I ran my hand through my hair. I was so used to people kissing my ass that I hadn't considered any alternatives.

  Jamison gave me a strange look. “I think he’s more interested in saving her from you and sweeping her off her feet.”

  I stared. I had to have heard him wrong. “Her brother?”

  “Her foster brother. I’m sure he’ll make the distinction for you.” For some reason, this seemed to amuse Jamison.

  I frowned and followed him out to the garden patio. Through the window, I saw Chelsea in the kitchen, loading our lunch onto a tray. Her eyes met mine, but dropped quickly. Apparently, she was keeping busy inside, leaving me to meet Zach alone.

  “Alex Silverhaus, nice to meet you,” Zach said, holding out his hand.

  I smiled and shook his hand, trying to measure him up the way guys do during a handshake. He was an inch or two taller than me, lean and hard-muscled. His brown hair was wild and sun-streaked, reminding me of a typical all-American extreme sports fanatic. Not rich, but not someone I could easily dismiss either.

  “Zach, right?” Probably raced dirt bikes or something dangerous like that. The sort of thing that got girls all wet in their panties. “So, you’re Chelsea’s brother?”

  “Well, I’m one them. We had a big family. You’re probably thinking of Karl,” Zach said, his bright green eyes measuring me.

  “Karl?” I asked. He waited for me to let go of the handshake first, then stood his ground, crossing his arms across his chest.

  “Yeah, her younger brother,” he said arching an eyebrow. “But you’re just her employer so I don’t suppose there’s any reason for you to know that, other than Karl is the only reason she’s here.”

  “And you’re her other brother?” I asked, ignoring the sting his words prompted.

  “I’m her foster brother, not blood. We met when we were both adopted as teenagers so it wasn't like we grew up as siblings. We’ve always been more friends and confidantes than brother and sister.”

  Fuck me. This guy was laying it on thick, implying some kind of claim to Chelsea because of their family ties, but I got the impression he liked her, and not in the friendly kind of way. I didn't know much about the dynamics of foster families, but it was clear he didn't see any problem with having the hots for his foster sister.

  Zach glanced around the patio area and at the pool. There was no envy in his eyes, but the appreciation there was tinged with something else. “I’m
glad she found this gig. Short, and the money’s right. Just enough for what Karl needs. Chelsea can’t wait to get home and get him moved into his new program.”

  I jammed my hands in my pockets. So there was even more that I didn't know. “He doesn’t live with Chelsea?”

  Zach snorted. “How would that work? She’s still working her way through school. Not everyone was born into this.”

  He stepped back and gestured to the manicured lawn, the carefully tended garden, and the patio table set for lunch with a white tablecloth and my monogrammed silverware. Jamison finished uncorking a bottle of white wine and filled the crystal glasses at each place.

  “She goes to Oregon State for writing?” I asked, reaching into my memory for the details, something to prove that I, too, knew Chelsea.

  “Chelsea’s a lot more practical than that,” he said, pushing his wild hair out of his face as he laughed. “Yeah, she’s talented at writing, but she takes business classes so she’ll be able to support Karl with a real job after she graduates.”

  This guy was beginning to annoy me. Another jab at me. This time at my career. The film industry did have a – well, a certain reputation that could be a little sleazy at times, but I wasn't like that. He didn't know me. And he also clearly didn't know just how talented his sister was.

  “Yes, she does have a gift for writing. Did she tell you she’s doing the rewrites for my latest film?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Zach shrugged. “Like I said, Chelsea’s practical. Keep the boss happy and all that. You’re paying her for it, right?”

  “Actually...” Shit. “We haven’t discussed that yet,” I said, scratching my head. “The experience is good for her, and she’ll be able to leverage it later on.”

  “Leverage isn't really what she needs,” he said, giving me a tight smile.

  “And I suppose you know what she needs?” I asked, striding over to the table. I was doing my best to keep my temper, but he wasn't making it easy.

  “And what she wants,” Zach said, picking up a wineglass for a quick sip. He never stopped smiling, but now I saw sharp edges. “She doesn’t really like a lot of complications, people trying to take her focus off what’s important.”

  “Her brother,” I said, sliding out the chair and motioning for him to sit at the table.

  “His name is Karl,” Zach said, still standing.

  “Well,” I said, forcing my fingers to stay light on the wineglass. “Things aren’t very complicated here. Chelsea likes her job, and I support her writing.” I couldn't resist a little jab of my own. “Something, I guess, she wasn’t getting at home.”

  Zach put down his glass and crossed his arms. “Chelsea’s not big on people supporting her. She’s very independent. The last thing she wants is another person putting demands on her. Best to let her go her own way.”

  Home to you? I thought. No way, asshole. I gripped the stem of the glass, wondering what this guy’s angle was? Why was he really here? Was he just playing the role of protective big brother–foster brother? Or had I read him right and he wanted her too? Was he warning me off without knowing how I couldn’t keep my hands off of her? Shit. Unless she'd told him.

  Chelsea stepped onto the patio carrying the lunch tray, her long hair tied into a braid. With a jolt, a wave of apprehension washed over me and I watched helplessly, as Zach jogged over to help her, leaving me waiting at the table. Fucker’s smile heated up twenty degrees when he looked at her. Not that I blamed him, but when Chelsea returned it with an easy laugh of her own, that burned.

  At the end of the summer, would she tell him I'd been just an easy fling, a quick, fun affair she was easily able to leave behind when she returned to real life? Or would she even think about me at all? The thought made the white wine bitter in my mouth.

  “Waldorf salad, tuna steaks, and those whole wheat rolls you like so much,” Chelsea said to me as she and Zach reached the table. Jamison followed behind. Oh, look at that. Zach was carrying the tray for her. Jamison could have carried it. Zach was trying to score points with her. No, he was trying to show me up. I rubbed my hand across my mouth, stifling the urge to blurt out the wrong thing.

  Zach eyed the food as they placed it on the table. “Fancy eats. Can you imagine ordering up whatever you want for lunch?” He said it like I didn’t exist and he was only talking to Chelsea.

  Chelsea chuckled. “Yeah, but we can’t get Zach’s famous Serrano pepper quesadillas here in Holland. Remember those, Zach?”

  Zach laughed as if remembering something fondly from their shared past, and that just pissed me off even more.

  “I’m sure you can’t get that here. I always keep a jar of Serrano peppers in my fridge, just in case you want one,” Zach said, flipping Chelsea’s swinging braid over her shoulder with a familiarity that irked me.

  Chelsea pushed his shoulder, then rolled her eyes as he pulled out her chair with a flourish. She sat down, the smile still bright on her lips. After he pushed her chair in he spun to his own spot at the table. I half-expected someone that long and tall to be gawky, but he had the tight grace of an athlete. Chelsea watched him too, and my first bite of salad felt like gravel.

  Suddenly, I felt like I was locked in some stupid testosterone-laden competition over Chelsea. Brotherly love? Fuck that. His love for her was carnal, pure and simple. He was no brother, foster or otherwise. He was a man and Chelsea was a beautiful woman. And if I didn't do something, I was going to lose before we even started playing.

  I cleared my throat, and said, “Did Chelsea tell you how many of her ideas we're using in my movie?”

  Soft wisps of black silk escaped her braid and Chelsea brushed them aside, as if she was surprised that I was back in the conversation. “Oh, yes, they decided some of my ideas worked really well on the re-write.”

  “Re-write? Wasn’t going well, huh?” Zach asked, leaning back in his chair.

  “One of the actresses was disrupting the set and everything,” Chelsea said, sitting forward. “It’ll be all over the tabloids soon, if she has anything to say about it. Can I tell him?”

  I nodded, feeling hollow as her eyes bounced off me and back to Zach. Clearly, he was the one who had her attention.

  “April Temple,” she said as if delivering a punch line.

  Zach erupted from his relaxed lean and smacked his hands on the table. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Queen Wiggle-Scream?”

  Chelsea clapped two hands over her mouth, but couldn’t muffle her shriek of laughter. She glanced at Jamison and me. “I’d forgotten about that. We saw her in Fanged Fog at the drive-in that summer.”

  “Chelsea does the best impression of April Temple,” Zach said without taking his eyes off of her.

  “Really? You never told me that,” I said, folding my arms on the table in front of me. I tried not to sound like a petulant child.

  “It’s silly,” she said and waved a hand in the air. “No reason to mention it.”

  I watched her as I rested my chin in my hand. There was a light in her eyes I hadn’t seen before. She could be herself in front of Zach, silly and nostalgic. He made her feel comfortable, and the result was luminous. Her eyes sparkled. She was playful and reached out easily to grab his arm, touch him, even in jest, to swat at him, anything to make a connection. It seemed his teasing made her lively...and more attractive than ever.

  I wanted to jam my chair between them, or better yet, knock Zach all the way back to the drive. The jealousy ate me up, and I started comparing myself to him, running down a mental list of pros and cons. Our physical appearances. Finances. Education...

  What the hell was I doing? I was letting this guy get to me. My glowering made Chelsea do a double-take, so I quickly cleared my expression and said, “Oh, this I have to see. Go ahead, give it a shot.”

  “We called her Queen Wiggle-Scream because every time she screams her whole body does this goofy move,” Chelsea said.

  “Come on, stand up, really throw yourself into it. Remember?” Zach
said, pulling her up. “You have to commit. I’ll be your monster.”

  I was the one who wanted to scream, but instead, I sat back and kept a smile in place.

  I watched as they acted it out. Zach stalked her across the patio and lunged for her waist. Chelsea threw her hands up to her face, screamed, and sent a jiggle from her shoulders to her hips. I had to laugh because they were right. It was April’s overacting done exactly right. But my mood changed, and my chuckle stuck in my chest when Zach picked up Chelsea and whirled her around, turning her faux scream into a real shriek of laughter.

  His hands were on her hips, her arms clung to his shoulders, and suddenly I was jealous again. I yanked my hands under the table to hide my clenched fists.

  “Chelsea was just in my office this morning, helping me celebrate firing April Temple,” I said.

  Zach put her down. He hadn’t missed the red-cheeked look she gave me. My fingers relaxed a little when I caught Chelsea’s eyes and saw that she didn't look angry.

  I couldn’t resist getting in another dig, so in a selfish move, I continued, “Working with Chelsea is really great. Feels like a good fit. I hope to have her there more often.”

  They returned to the table and sat down, Chelsea holding a hand low on her stomach, the way people did when they’d been laughing, but the heat in her eyes was all for me. I knew she remembered our morning, and how it had felt with me inside her. In my periphery, Zach’s eyes darted between the two of us and it was my turn to lean back in my chair and suppress a smug smile. He may have had his hands on her hips, and his eyes all over her, but I’d had the real thing.

  “Will that be before or after her maid duties?” Zach asked, stabbing his salad.

  “Come on, Zach,” Chelsea said.

  “No, I’m curious how it works for you. I’ve had plenty of jobs where the duties changed. At first, it feels great because you’re taking on more, it’s interesting and fun. Then you realize you’re putting in extra hours without pay, expected to do way more than time allows, and bam! You’re being taken advantage of.” He finished his last sentence looking at his plate.