by Claire Adams
"Mr. Jason," I gasped. "Did you try to call me earlier? I'm so sorry. Are you still at the office? I finished my report on the Curtis deposition."
"No, Kiara. I thought it best to have this conversation after I'd left the office. I didn't want us to get interrupted."
I gripped the railing of the back porch. "Is everything all right?"
"Your work has been passable, Kiara, and we appreciate it. The real problem is, how should I say it? Your lack of passion for the law."
"Passion?" I asked with a hysterical edge to my voice. "I thought practicing law was more about professionalism than passion."
"True, yes. Your recent absences have created a less than professional reputation, but it is more your lack of passion that makes you the wrong fit for our firm." Mr. Jason's voice was steady.
"The wrong fit? Are you firing me?" I asked before the breath was squeezed out of my lungs by panic.
"We'll pay you through the end of the month to give you time to find a better fit. Good luck, Ms. Davies."
The phone line went dead. A wave of relief washed over me, but I quickly shook it off. Not only was I broke, but now I had no job. I couldn't even turn back to the cottage because the thought of disappointing…no one.
My eyes dried instantly, and I turned to face the empty cottage. I didn't even have anyone to disappoint. I was all alone.
The thought hung over me like a heavy cloud as I cleaned up the kitchen and did the calculations in my head. I would be stuck on Long Island for at least another 48 hours while my paycheck cleared. Then, I could afford a ride-share back to Brooklyn.
My chest squeezed again. My tiny apartment was affordable, but it was still at Brooklyn prices. If I didn't find another job right away, I would have to sublet the only place that felt like home.
"Where am I going to find a job?" I groaned over the sink.
The only other job I had ever had was in my college cafeteria. I wasn't qualified for anything else. Within two weeks, my whole life would unravel.
My only comfort was that the old Davies cottage was still standing. I looked around the tiny, two-bedroom shack and sighed. It was nice that no matter what happened, I would always have the cottage with its unkempt driveway, wide, wild gardens, and views of the Atlantic. Despite the tight dimensions, the cottage was cozy and comforting. It had kept me warm and safe on many lonely nights.
"Tanya? Sorry, the phone scared me," I said as I picked up my ringing phone.
"I just got to the library. You're coming to study tonight, right?" Tanya asked.
I pressed a shaking hand to my forehead. The music and laughter from the party seemed to be drifting closer, and I couldn't concentrate. "No. I'm sorry. I had to go home."
"Really?" Tanya asked, and I could hear her smile, "because it sounds an awful lot like you're at some party. Can I come?"
I laughed. "I wish. I'm out on Long Island at my father's place, and the neighbor is having another one of his wild soirees."
Tanya gasped. "Oh my God, that's right. Your neighbor out there is Teddy Brickman, right? You should go over there and have a little fun for both of us!"
"I don't feel like celebrating tonight," I said. "Tanya, actually, I've got to tell you something."
She sighed. "I heard about your internship. Does that mean you're not taking the bar?"
"I don't know what it means. Everything is all screwed up." I balled my hand into a fist and refused to let my voice tremble. "Remember that roommate of yours whose boyfriend was looking for an apartment? Think he'd be interested in my little Brooklyn attic?"
"No. No way. I'm not letting you give up your apartment." Tanya was firm. "So you got fired from your internship. Go over to your neighbor's party, cheer yourself up, then call and tell me all the details. We'll come up with a plan for you tomorrow."
I grinned. "Thanks, Tanya, but I think I'll skip the party and concentrate on a new plan."
She heaved a heavy sigh. "You know, it's all right to let go every once in a while."
"Says the girl that's at the library," I joked.
"That's exactly why you're supposed to go out and party for the both of us!"
"Sorry," I said. "I don't really move in the same circles as my neighbor, so I'm going to skip the party. But I will call you tomorrow."
I hung up the phone feeling marginally better. Maybe I wasn't as alone as I felt.
Then, I glanced out the window and saw a crowd weaving its way across the sweeping lawns to the clearing near the edge of my property. Flickering orange light reflected off silk sundresses and expensive jewelry as Teddy directed his friends to make the bonfire bigger.
"My father claims in his day they had bonfires so big the flames reached the top of the pine trees," I heard Teddy call out.
"The trees were shorter then," I muttered to myself as I slammed the kitchen window shut.
There wasn't going to be much of a chance for quiet contemplation or planning with the raucous crowd starting to dance around the growing bonfire.
The Brickman staff were hurrying across the lawns with folding tables and white linen tablecloths. Within minutes, there was a five-star buffet and a full bar set up. A sleek, brand-new pickup truck arrived with a sound system and large speakers.
Dishes rattled in the cupboards as the music started.
"Twenty acres of prime seashore property, plus forty-eight rooms, and he has to have his party right on my property line," I grumbled as I headed to my loft bedroom.
There was no doubt in my mind that Teddy was doing it on purpose, though I couldn’t spot him in the crowd outside.
Half my childhood had been spent watching him play with his newest and best toys within sight of my window. He didn't seem content with anything until he had made sure I noticed it, but tonight, I refused to give him a second glance.
Teddy Brickman might be a billionaire, but he hadn't earned a cent of it—and he had certainly never earned my respect. I swished my heavy curtains closed and curled up in bed, determined to ignore the party. Nothing could keep the heavy beats of the music out of my cottage, but it was the firelight that kept me awake. I watched it dance across the walls of the peaked loft ceiling and wondered what would happen if my entire life had just gone up in flames.
Would anyone care?
Sure, my father would call and check in, but I would still be all alone.
"A Davies never turns away from trouble," my father would tell me.
With his motto ringing in my ears, I threw back the covers and marched to my closet. The only thing suitable for confronting Teddy Brickman was an old, secondhand dress. I slipped the black cocktail dress on and viewed myself in the mirror. It wouldn’t fool any of his fashionable guests for long, but it would get me into the party. Just in case, I shoved my phone and thin wallet into an old clutch purse, then I squeezed my toes into a pair of high heels and headed to the mansion next door.
Chapter Two
Teddy
I never understood the point of hosting a party. Everyone thanked me profusely, and my reputation grew exponentially, but I didn't do a thing. The staff moved into high gear, my more conservative guests worried about the antiques getting knocked over, and my friends were always responsible for the guest list.
In fact, throwing a party meant that I was kicked out of the estate's lower level as my uptight housekeeper whipped through the rooms like an obsessive-compulsive tornado. All I did was stay out of the way until I was planted near the front foyer to greet dozens of people I barely knew.
The tabloids had marked me as one of the best hosts and had half of the Eastern Seaboard scrambling to secure an invite anytime word got out I was having a party. When I tried to credit my housekeeper and staff, my friends shook their heads and told me I was being gauche. To me, bad taste was not giving credit where credit was due.
"Another superb party, Teddy!" Another wave of guests arrived, headed up by my former school buddy, Darren.
I looked around and had to admit that it looked
like fun. An eclectic and upbeat mix of music poured through the built-in speakers, and the Brickman Estate pulsed with fun. I stifled a yawn and shook my head. It was strange that I only ever came home to throw a party.
She was responsible for making me think about coming home. One glance at her wild, dark hair reminded me of the summer I had been chained to my family's estate while my father recovered from a car accident. She'd been there, a mysterious almost untouchable puzzle that drew me like a magnet, while three long months had flown by.
I found out her name and vowed to get to know her, but Kiara Davies hardly ever reappeared along our stretch of Long Island. Until today.
"Teddy! Snap out of it, man. There's an impromptu performance going on in the ballroom that you are not going to want to miss." Darren flagged me down across the crowd of people.
I swallowed another yawn and made my way across the marble expanse of the foyer, tight with party guests. Women batted their eyelashes, men chucked me on the shoulder, and everyone shoved back against the crowd so I could get through. The one nice thing about being a recognizable figure was being free to move, as long as I didn't mind being stared at along the way.
"That Whitney Barnes is something else," Darren panted as I joined him in the ballroom doorway. "I don't know what your hang-up is. Not only is she richer than half the royalty in the world, but she is hotter than hell."
"An apt description," I muttered.
"Seriously? You can't look at that and tell me that marriage to Whitney Barnes would be some circle of hell." Darren elbowed me in the ribs.
Whitney, the willowy heiress with the perfect white-blonde hair, was draped over the curve of the grand piano. Her shimmering dress slipped over a tight and rigorously maintained body that made most men drool. She tossed her shining hair and blew me a kiss.
Darren melted. "She'll do anything to get your attention."
"There must be something wrong with me," I said.
"Yeah, it's called that gorgeous Amazon you brought with tonight," Darren chuckled. "No wonder Whitney's putting on such a show. She thinks she's up against a supermodel."
I glanced around, realizing that I had completely forgotten the companion I had driven out to Long Island. She stopped speaking to me in the car when all I could do was wonder about Kiara Davies.
Damn it, there she was, getting in my head again.
"She's over by the French doors," Darren said.
"Who?" I whipped my head around, looking for that tangle of dark, silky hair.
Darren patted my shoulder. "Don't worry. I got your back. I'll go cozy up to the supermodel so you're free to enjoy Whitney's show."
It would have been rude to leave when her warbling voice was just reaching its high, soprano peak of impressiveness. The ballroom rang with the clear note, and Whitney's light-blue eyes locked on mine. I looked away.
Whitney Barnes could have had her pick of any man, but for some backwards reason, she had pinned her plans on me. My track record made it clear that I was not going to settle down into society anytime soon, but she thought of me as a project.
Just the thought of getting roped into an engagement made my collar feel too tight. I unbuttoned the top button of my dress shirt, applauded along with everyone else, and then looked for an out.
Too bad the only person I could find that I even remotely wanted to talk to was Roger Dallas. I had gone out of my way to not invite him, but he strode across the foyer and shook my hand like we were old friends. I despised him, mainly for having the talent to escape his family legacy and create a name for himself, but the rivalry was far more interesting than another round of polite conversations.
"Got lost?" I asked.
"Somebody had to show up and make sure you don't ruin our generation's reputation before we even get started," Roger said. He had an ease about accepting his place in society that irked me every time.
"Last time I checked, my reputation had very little to do with me and more to do with my family name," I said.
Roger nodded, his smile genuine. "True enough. That's why I opted for a profession. My family was sure the earth was going to cave in once I went to work, but everything seems to be working out fine."
Fine was an understatement—the kind of gentlemanly modesty that made Roger so irritating. "Speaking of fine, you just missed Whitney's aria. Why don't you go ask for an encore?"
"Thanks, but I have my eye on a new acquaintance. I don't suppose you'd be a gracious host and introduce us, would you?"
I followed Roger's subtle nod and my mouth dried up. The woman in question stood alone on the wide portico outside the ballroom. Her vintage, Versace cocktail dress fit over slender curves and nipped in tight at the knees to accentuate long, delicious legs. She tapped one small, delicate, black high-heel against the stones, but I couldn't tell if it was nerves or irritation. Her long, dark hair rippled down her back in loose, wild waves.
I tore my eyes off Kiara Davies long enough to consider the antique, dueling pistols above the second ballroom fireplace. I would rather have faced off at a dozen paces than introduced my rival to the only woman that made me actually feel a heartbeat.
"Darling, I've just had the most wonderful idea," Whitney chirruped at my side. "Nice to see you again, Roger."
"What wonderful idea is it this time?" I asked before Roger could draw Whitney's attention to Kiara.
"A bonfire!"
"Why?" I asked with a snort. "There are at least twenty fireplaces here. There are two in this room, for God's sake."
Whitney tossed her hair and slipped an arm through the crook of Roger's elbow. "Fine, if you want to throw the same, old, boring party again, it's up to you. I just thought a bonfire would be energizing."
"Pagan," Roger added with a mischievous grin.
"Where?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and clocking Kiara as she moved farther away onto the lawn.
"How about the south clearing, past the gardens?" Whitney asked.
Right next to the split-rail fence that divided Brickman Estate from Kiara's family property. I nodded. "Fine, but you have to tell my housekeeper."
Whitney laughed and tossed her hair again, letting go of Roger to wrap around my arm like ivy. "Of course you didn’t notice the staff disappearing. I already told your housekeeper and sent them to set everything up. The bonfire started about twenty minutes ago. Shall we?"
I nodded and let Whitney direct me into the wave of well-dressed humanity spilling out the French doors and heading across the sweeping lawns. I wondered if Kiara's appearance had to do with the clamor of the party-goers practically marching up her back lawn. I had no idea what else would possess her to gate-crash. She had never set foot on the Brickman Estate before.
Whitney was resplendent with triumph as she marched me around the bonfire. I went along with her in the hopes of spotting my elusive neighbor again, but the crowd was still thick, and the bonfire sent everyone in and out of shadows.
Finally, I untangled myself from Whitney's grip and went to refill my drink. Vincent Jeffry, my laser-focused and frighteningly efficient housekeeper, had set up a full bar complete with a white, linen tablecloth and uniformed bartender. It didn't matter that it was on a folding table at the base of an old pine tree; it was fully stocked and serving my insatiable party-guests without any signs of running dry.
"See any party-crashers, Vinny?" I asked.
Vincent Jeffry pursed his lips at my informality and straightened his cuffs. "Ms. Davies has made an appearance, sir."
I blinked, only partially surprised that my housekeeper had noticed. Nothing escaped his attention. "Point me in her direction?"
A flash of surprise and some unrecognizable emotion shot across Vincent Jeffry's face. "Near the fire, on the western side."
I raised my glass to him and then turned to push my way into the revelers. Outside in the shadowed flickers of the bonfire, the crowd did not part for me as easily. I elbowed my way through until the heat of the bonfire was nearly unbearable
.
"Sorry. I hope I didn't spill your drink."
I fought the urge to down the rest of my scotch in a panic. My mouth had dried up again and snapped shut as the crowd surged, and Kiara was pushed tight up against my chest. She looked up at me with her dark-brown eyes reflecting the wild dance of the fire. Heat that had nothing to do with the flames ignited between us, and I was happy to see her eyes cloud with confusion. She felt it, too.
Then, the hard glint returned to her expression, and she shoved me back. "I'm hoping we can keep this polite, Brickman," Kiara snapped. "When are you going to move this circus away from my windows so I can get some sleep?"
I panicked and reverted to my manners. I wiped my sweating palm on my tailored pants before holding out my hand. "I'm Theodore Brickman the Third, but you can call me Teddy."
She raised a dark eyebrow as her dark petal lips drew back in a snarling smile. "Really? Fine. Nice to meet you, Teddy. I'm Kiara Davies, your pissed-off neighbor."
"As long as you tell me you aren't some tabloid reporter looking for an exclusive. Oh, God, the tabloids didn't hire you because they knew you could get onto the estate, did they?"
Kiara ripped her hand out of mine and obviously fought the urge to curl her fingers into a fist. "I didn't know I could get onto the estate," she spat. "I remember you once made it very clear that our kinds don't mix."
"Our kinds?"
She snorted. "I don't need your polite obtuseness. I know all of Long Island considers it abhorrent that my family still retains this small plot of land. But, that's the point. That fence marks my property, and seeing as you have acres and acres, all I'm asking is that you move your debauchery to some other corner."
"Kiara, what are you talking about?" The crowd moved again, and we were swept to the outer edges. I felt the loss of her close-pressed body and caught her hand before she could draw back farther.
"Just do one decent thing and move your goddamn bonfire," Kiara said.
I struggled to hang onto her hand. "I don't abhor you or your family. We're not different kinds of people."
