by Liz Talley
“Darling, who are you wearing?” she said, not even bothering to introduce herself.
“Beg your pardon?” Mary Paige said, darting a glance toward Judy, who looked as if she might laugh.
“Mary Paige, this is Gigi Malone, the manager of— What are you the manager of?” Judy asked, a small flush spreading across her cheeks.
“Haute couture,” the woman said, pinching the fabric at Mary Paige’s hip and studying it. “Carolina Herrera?”
“Oh, is that a designer?” Mary Paige asked, feeling completely out of her depth. “I’m not sure. I actually got this at a secondhand store.”
The woman literally stepped back. “Well, it’s stunning and quite brilliant to pair it with substantial lingerie. A little last season, but you wear it so well, and that’s half the battle. I applaud you, my dear.”
Substantial lingerie? Jeez, what was the woman’s idea of non-substantial? “Thank you—I think.” Mary Paige was almost positive Gigi had paid her a compliment. “And may I say you look equally stunning? You, too, Judy.”
Judy wore her hair in soft swooping waves à la Rita Hayworth in Gilda, and it matched the ’40s-style taffeta dress that had to have a petticoat beneath it if the skirt’s volume was any indication. She looked pretty adorable and her smile matched the flash of the small diamond on her left hand.
“Thank you, Mary Paige.”
“Well, I’m off to find Ellen and Mark. They’ve promised to give me a ride home. Cheers, ladies, and very nice to meet you, Mary Paige.”
“Likewise,” Mary Paige said, turning to Judy as Gigi strode away, chin up, back straight, parting the crowd with her very aura. “I heard about the engagement. Congratulations, Judy. I’m so pleased for you and Mr. Henry. I don’t think I’ve seen a man preen before, but he’s a regular peacock.”
Judy held out the ring. “Isn’t it perfect? Not big but Malcolm says there isn’t a single flaw. Crazy man thinks it represents me, which is silly. You and I know, no girl is perfect.”
Mary Paige looked at the ring—so simple and suitable for Judy—then lifted her gaze to the woman who had been a steadying force each time Mary Paige felt a stormy sea rocked beneath her. She marveled at that special something Judy had, that knack for making everyone feel comfortable.
“Nope, none of us is, but to Malcolm you’re perfect for him, and you can’t argue with that.”
“I can.” Judy looked at the ring before shaking her head in wonder. “But I won’t. Both he and I are too old to argue about such things. If that man says he loves me and wants me next to him every morning when he wakes, I’m not standing in his way because I feel exactly the same way.”
“It’s what every person wants,” Mary Paige said.
“But many never have, so I feel incredibly blessed.” Judy studied Mary Paige—not the dress as everyone else had—but her face, her eyes. It was as if the woman had taken out a trowel and dug around until she found the roots beneath the surface. “And you?”
“Me?”
“I haven’t known Brennan for very long, but he’s definitely spinning in circles over you. And, while I don’t know you well, either, you’re different than that night several weeks ago. Something more peaceful—” she gestured toward Mary Paige’s dress “—or secure.”
Secure? Not in the least. Mary Paige mostly felt as if she were walking on a ledge trying not to look down. Her relationship with Brennan was strange—like meeting a guy at summer camp. Everything was good while living in that bubble, but real life tended to be a long pin that popped the bubble, leaving a girl exposed, blinking at the sun, wondering what happened.
“I’m not secure, just inspired when I saw this dress. Guess I felt like being bold for once in my life, but that proves nothing.”
“Okay,” Judy said with a little smile that made Mary Paige want to argue with her, to convince her otherwise.
But what did it matter what Judy believed? All that mattered was what Mary Paige believed, and when it came to her and Brennan, she didn’t have a clue what that was.
So she simply wouldn’t think about it.
Spying Brennan across the room, she started toward him. His dark head was angled toward the woman she remembered was his secretary. He looked so different than when Mary Paige had first met him. Maybe it merely seemed that way because she knew him better. Had seen the gooey center in the hard man he showed the world, had seen beneath to the man he could be.
“Dance with me?”
She spun at the touch on her shoulder and the sound of the voice in her ear. “Oh, Asher. You startled me.”
His smile could melt the ice sculpture. “You were deep in thought. Sorry.” He held out an expectant hand.
She cast a final look at Brennan, who was still talking, and took the proffered hand. “Sure.”
“Perfect.” Asher let her pass in front of him as they moved toward the dance floor centered in front of the band the Funky Meters, which included members of the Neville family. The New Orleans originals played their own music mixed with funky versions of traditional Christmas music.
Asher spun her into his arms as the band launched into a soulful number with jazzy snare drums and rich guitar, inspiring a wicked dance groove. He was a good dancer, light on his feet with natural grace. No awkward jerking or silly-looking footwork.
“You’re an amazing dancer,” Asher said, his blue eyes traveling yet again down the length of her body. It made her a little uncomfortable, but she supposed she’d asked to be looked at when she took the plunge and wore the overtly sexy outfit.
“Not so bad yourself,” she said, her breath growing labored as she twisted and turned with the sexy beat of the song.
After several minutes, the song wound down and Asher jerked his head toward the nearby bar. “Let’s grab a drink. I’m not used to getting down New Orleans–style anymore.”
She nodded because she really needed water. It wasn’t warm but her skin was coated with a light sheen of perspiration anyway. She’d let her exercise routine lapse with the busyness of the Spirit of Christmas campaign and her whirlwind romance with Brennan, and it was evident.
Asher ordered a whiskey while she sucked down a glass of water. Wiping her brow, she smiled. “Whew, I need to get my butt back in the gym. I’m out of shape.”
“Not from where I’m standing,” Asher said, his voice like silk.
What the hell? He was starting to set her teeth on edge with the flirting. Hadn’t she made it clear she was “with” Brennan when she’d jabbed her arm through the crook of his and beamed at him like some starstruck teenager? Despite what seemed a very obvious staking of claim, Asher acted like he was seducing her. Maybe it was the way he treated all women…after all, he was married.
She never cared for men who hid their intentions behind honeyed words. Probably why she liked Brennan so well. He said what was on his mind whether she liked what that was or not. “Actually, I am. That wore me out.”
“Then you should sit down. Come with me.” He took her elbow and steered her toward a door behind a vignette of funky ’70s dresses and a tinsel tree with peace signs attached. She tried to pull back but he tightened his hold, and since she didn’t want an all-out struggle she went with him. He was Malcolm’s nephew, Brennan’s cousin and surely there was no harm in getting to know him better, even if something in her brain shot out a warning.
“Let’s go to one of the tables over there.” She pointed, and made another attempt to wrench her elbow from his grasp.
“But it’s so loud in here, and I need to talk to you about Brennan,” he said, his smile suddenly harmless.
“Brennan?”
“Just some insight about him and his past relationships you might want to hear.”
Something inside her gut twisted. What could he tell her about Brennan she didn’t already know? That he’d never get serious about her? That he had some stunted heart that wouldn’t allow for love? That he used his charm to get what he wanted then left a gal to pick up the
pieces, smelling the gasoline vapors on the side of the road as he took off for greener pastures.
Asher didn’t wait for a response. He opened the door and pressed her inside, hitting the light to reveal a small office with a desk covered with papers and several coffee mugs. A calendar with scantily clad women hung on the wall beneath a huge clock.
“You should sit,” Asher said, gesturing toward the chair.
“Wait, what’s going on?” She should leave. Her gut told her so, but Asher had dangled a carrot she found hard to resist.
He shoved a hand through his light brown hair, the highlights catching in the fluorescent light, making her wonder if he highlighted his hair or if it was natural.
“Look, I can see Brennan has you under his spell. He’s very good at that, Mary Paige. I know firsthand because he did the same to my wife.”
“Your wife? Brennan dated your wife?” Her heart sped up as she sank onto the proffered chair.
Asher stared out the window at the glittering night sky, his face a study of contemplation and concern. “Yes, and he toyed with Elsa the same way. Poor girl thought he was serious about her, but he wasn’t. Brennan never is.”
“Why are you telling me this? This is—”
“Because you’re like Elsa. A nice girl who doesn’t deserve to pin her hopes on a man who doesn’t have the word commit in his vocabulary. Every woman thinks she can heal Brennan, and he plays on that, strings her along but it never works. Elsa’s heart was broken, and it was a long time before she could trust again. I feel so fortunate I was there to help her pick up the pieces. I merely thought you should know.”
Mary Paige shook her head, wondering why she was listening to Asher. It wasn’t his place to tell her of Brennan’s past, but still she sat glued to the chair. “No, I can’t believe that. Brennan wouldn’t treat a woman so callously.”
“Wouldn’t he?”
Creighton’s face bloomed into view in Mary Paige’s mind and something twisted hard in her stomach. From what she could tell, Brennan had toyed with Creighton then dropped her the moment she started expecting something from him.
“Look, I love my cousin. He and I were so close…before he broke Elsa’s heart, before he threw himself so fully into the family business. I wish Brennan and I could be close again, but he guards himself. Holds himself apart from everyone. I know you’ve seen this in him.”
She stared at the little flecks in the tile at her feet. “Brennan has endured loss in his life, so it’s only natural he protects himself. And, besides, I think your concerns are premature. We’ve only been hanging out.”
“But you should ask yourself who stands to gain. I heard my sister commend him for allowing the entire city to think you’re falling in love. To him this is a game played to help the only thing he really cares about—the company.” Asher approached, taking one of the hands that hung at her side. He cradled it between both of his and she felt nothing. It was as if she were having an out-of-body experience. “And it’s very obvious you’ve fallen for him in spite of it all.”
He said it in a how-very-sad voice that felt like a razor slicing across her heart, making her overlook the fact this man hadn’t been around Brennan in years, permitting her fears regarding the man she’d tumbled into love with so quickly to surface.
“I haven’t,” she said, but even she could hear the lie in her voice.
“Sweet Mary Paige.” Asher pulled her from the chair, and gently wrapped his arms around her. “I see such beauty in your soul. You’re like a tender flower, grace and love in each petal. But like that flower you trust people not to step on you, not to pluck your petals and leave you abandoned.”
She stood woodenly in his arms, every cell in her body screaming out against the truth in his poetic words. Had she wanted to love Brennan so badly she was easy plucking? Had she been the softhearted idiot yet again, allowing Brennan to do on a larger scale what Simon had done—use her?
She felt shell-shocked.
Stupid.
Asher’s lips brushed her cheek.
What the hell? She stepped back, but his arms held her firmly.
“I appreciate your concern, Asher, especially when you’ve just met me. I can assure you I’m okay. My heart isn’t broken and your words are unnecessary. I’m a big girl.”
He looked at her, his blue eyes so sincere. “Yes, you are. Still, there is something delicate in you, something a man needs to protect.”
Mary Paige read more than goodwill flickering in Asher’s eyes. He looked strange, and acted even more strangely.
She pressed lightly against his chest, attempting to break his hold. “Let me go. I’m stronger than I look.”
His eyes dipped to her lips and the last thought she had before he kissed her was, Oh, crap.
Mary Paige struggled to move away, but Asher’s hand caught her head as his other arm locked her in place. His lips were demanding and he tasted like whiskey.
She tried to turn her head. “Stop.”
Vaguely she heard the door open and her mind tripped into the land of disbelief. She didn’t have to look to know it was Brennan standing looking at them.
Suddenly, she was in a soap opera, her lover catching her with another man.
She stomped on Asher’s foot and he released her finally, then turned toward Brennan with a sheepish smile. Mary Paige dragged the back of her hand over her mouth, trying in vain to erase Asher’s touch.
“What the hell?” Brennan said, his eyes flickering from her to his cousin.
“It’s not what it—”
“Sorry, man,” Asher said, shaking his head, spreading his hands out as he shrugged. “We danced and we couldn’t help ourselves.”
“No,” Mary Paige said. “That’s not what happened. He said he had to tell me something about you, and then all of a sudden he kissed me.”
Brennan’s eyes had narrowed and anger pulsed in the room like a live animal, devouring all in its path. She’d never seen fury so quiet before and knew how the poor gazelle felt right before the lion pounced.
“Come on,” Asher said, shaking his head. “I’m a married man. Do you think I would endanger my marriage over some girl I just met? She flirted with me, and when I offered her a sympathetic shoulder, things happened.”
Mary Paige’s mouth dropped open and she punched his arm. “You’re a liar. I did no such thing.”
“I watched you go with him. You came to this room with him.” Brennan’s words were calm…and cold as ice water.
“Well, yes, but only because he said he wanted to give me some insight about you.” She couldn’t believe what was going down. The whole situation felt preposterous, and Asher was a damn snake in the grass…or party. Either one.
Asher sighed and delivered a bemused smile. “Come on, Mary Paige, you don’t have to pretend with Brennan. He knows the score.”
She gasped. “You’re making this look like something it wasn’t, and Brennan’s not stupid. He knows me and knows I wouldn’t act like that.”
“Act like what? Flirt with me? Dance with me? Kiss me? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing with my cousin all along? How am I different from him? Besides, Brennan doesn’t really know you, does he?”
Mary Paige couldn’t believe the spin. It felt so designed. In fact, how had she not seen his intent? But why would Asher want to sabotage her and Brennan? What did he care who his cousin dated? Especially when he’d implied their dating was all an act contrived by Brennan.
She looked at Brennan, who stood motionless at the door, expression grim as if trying to pierce through to the truth. “Brennan, say something.”
* * *
BRENNAN HELD ON to the doorknob of the storage office as if it were a life raft, glad the office was hidden behind one of the displays so no one could see what a fool he was to have trusted either Asher or Mary Paige.
His heart pounded in his ears and his stomach flipped over and over, churning the small amount of alcohol he’d consumed.
“I d
on’t know what to say.” And he didn’t. His eyes didn’t lie. He’d seen Mary Paige in Asher’s arms, her hands splayed across his chest, and it was déjà vu. Years slipped away and it was Elsa, naked in Asher’s bed, sorrow in her pretty eyes.
Mary Paige stomped her foot. “This is ridiculous. You know I would never entice a man to an office I don’t even know about and make out with him while my boyfriend was in the next room. Who does that?”
“Who said I was your boyfriend?” Brennan said.
She looked as if he slapped her. In fact, he felt as though he had slapped her. His mind reeled and all he wanted to do was punch the hell out of Asher, leave the party and forget he’d ever met Mary Paige. Because his damn heart thumped louder and louder, a roar in his ears, fracturing with each pulse.
He knew he should have left her alone. From the very beginning he knew she would be trouble for him. But like a dumb-ass he stumbled right into this bizarre relationship with her, living in a fantasy, never bothering to think about how it would end.
He wasn’t sure what happened between her and Asher. And while he couldn’t really say he trusted his cousin anymore, he’d seen her flirting with Asher earlier. She’d done so right in front of Brennan’s own eyes. And she’d dressed so differently tonight—so not Mary Paige—and he’d noted how confident she seemed.
This was no clumsy, gauche accountant with her head in the clouds. Nope, not this woman.
Did he really know her? What if everything she’d claimed to be had been an act simply to get more money than what the Henry family had already given her? She could be the most skilled of con artists ever encountered. After all, she had yet to confess what she’d done with all that money his grandfather had given her.
His thoughts turned toward accusations a logical part of his brain knew were unfounded, but he couldn’t seem to stop his mind from venturing down those paths. What if she’d tricked him all along? What if it were all a big lie?
Who was Mary Paige Gentry?
He examined her standing beneath the ugly fluorescent lights, virtually in her underwear, as Asher leaned casually against an old filing cabinet.
