by Lauren Layne
“Kate actually went to business school,” Kennedy said.
“You did?” Jack looked over at Kate, but she ignored him, staring right at Kennedy.
“What’s that have to do with the conversation?” Kate asked, her voice testy.
“I just meant that you’re not only capable as an assistant,” Kennedy said, taken aback by the fire in her eyes. “You can do anything you want to do.” I was defending you.
Kate’s smile was tight. “I don’t think Claudia meant assistant as an insult.”
“I didn’t,” Claudia said quickly.
“Okay, so what’s my sign?” Jack asked Claudia in an effort to get the conversation back on track. “End of November makes me a—”
“There’s nothing wrong with being an assistant,” Kate said, interrupting Jack.
“I didn’t say there was,” Kennedy said, meeting her angry gaze levelly. He meant it. He couldn’t begin to do what Kate did on a daily basis. He didn’t know anyone who could.
Slowly she dragged her brown eyes from Kennedy back to Jack. “I got my MBA in business administration a couple years ago. Ian actually paid my tuition. He heard me say I wanted to continue my education, and next thing I knew, I was enrolled at Columbia. I wish he’d let me pay him back, but . . .” She shrugged. “I’m grateful.”
Kate was taking a sip of her drink and wasn’t looking at Kennedy after she said it, but his brother was. Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Kennedy pointedly ignored his brother’s prying gaze. He’d managed to keep his secret for this long; he wasn’t about to give himself away now. It had been hard enough to get Ian to cooperate. Kennedy didn’t want to have to drag Jack in on the lie, too.
Not to mention, his brother would want to know why. Why had Kennedy paid for Kate’s MBA? Why had he asked Ian to take the credit for it?
Kennedy didn’t want those questions, because he wasn’t entirely sure of the answers. He’d always told himself it was because Ian and Kate’s relationship had been easier than his and Kate’s relationship and that she’d accept tuition payment from Ian, not from him.
Lately, however, he wasn’t as sure. He knew only that he really didn’t want her to know the truth. That Kennedy had been the one who’d paid for her degree. That he’d do it again in a heartbeat and keep it just as secret.
Claudia and Kate’s conversation had shifted course to a movie starring Ryan Something-or-other, who Claudia thought was hot and Kate deemed overrated.
Kennedy finally chanced a look at his brother, braced for mocking but getting only thoughtfulness.
The server reappeared. “You guys ready to order?”
Kennedy had barely looked at the menu, but he nodded. Anything to speed the evening along. Kate ordered her mushroom truffle ravioli. Claudia got a salad. Jack ordered the duck and a bottle of wine for the table, and Kennedy opted for the bone-in rib eye.
“You two have any fun plans this weekend?” Claudia asked. “Kennedy and I are going to a black-tie thing at the Guggenheim on Saturday, and I know the coordinator. I could get two extra tickets.”
“Actually, we do have plans,” Jack said. “I scored tickets to the opera. Kate’s never been.”
Because she prefers the ballet.
“I’ve always heard it’s a NYC must,” Kate said, “but I’ve never had anyone to go with.”
Kate said it casually, matter-of-factly, and he genuinely doubted she expected or wanted sympathy, but her words caused a strange pang in his chest all the same. The woman had always seemed so confident and complete in herself—so utterly independent—it had never occurred to him that same reliance might have a side effect of loneliness.
Though it should have. Somehow, he managed to be lonely, even while in a relationship. Even, if he were fully honest, while he was among his friends.
“Oh, you’ll love it!” Claudia said. “Won’t she love it, Kennedy?” she asked, nudging him.
It took him a second to come back to the conversation. “Maybe. Opera’s sort of a love or hate thing.”
“Kennedy’s in the love category,” Jack said. “You know he used to listen to Bach, even in eighth grade?”
“Bach’s symphonies. An entirely different genre than the opera.”
Jack unsubtly delivered a “dork” behind a fake cough, and Claudia and Kate laughed.
“I think it’s adorable,” Claudia said, tucking her arm in Kennedy’s and resting her cheek against his shoulder.
“Definitely,” Kate said over the rim of her martini. “Adorable is definitely a word we all use for Kennedy.”
“What word would you use?” he asked Kate, since her sarcasm was clear.
“Adorable works,” she said sweetly.
He held her gaze. “Come on, Kate. Let’s hear it.”
“Kennedy.” The warning in his brother’s voice was clear, but Kennedy ignored it.
“So, Claudia, how are things going with that new charity you were trying to start up?” Kate asked.
“What word?” Kennedy snapped, refusing to be thwarted.
“Oh my God,” Kate said, shooting him an angry gaze. “Would you drop it?”
“Yes, do,” Claudia murmured quietly, rubbing her hand over his arm in a way that did absolutely nothing to soothe him. Especially not when Jack’s arm dropped around Kate’s chair. Casually.
That was the thing. There was no deliberate possessiveness in Jack’s gesture—the motion seemed spontaneous, as though it were second nature for his brother to be draped all over his assistant . . .
The truth hit Kennedy hard. And uncomfortably.
Surely he wasn’t . . . jealous?
No. Absurd. He was just protective. He knew that Jack traded out women with casual ease, and Kate had some grand vision of whatever it was her parents had.
He gave Claudia a forced smile of reassurance that he’d drop the topic, and the rest of the meal passed . . . tolerably. He was forced to rethink his opinion on the restaurant. It was small and crowded, yes, but the steak rivaled anything he’d had at any of the top steakhouses, and the wine Jack had selected was excellent. And yet, even as he forced himself to relax, to participate in the lively conversation around him, he couldn’t stop dwelling . . .
What word would Kate use to describe him? Not adorable. He got that. He didn’t particularly want to be seen as adorable by anyone. But it suddenly seemed vital to know how Kate saw him. Who knew, someday he could be her brother-in-law . . .
The steak that he’d just enjoyed suddenly wasn’t sitting so well, and he pushed his plate away.
“Dessert?” Kate asked as one of the bussers began clearing the table.
“No,” Kennedy said curtly, his stomach still churning at the thought of having Kate at family dinners. As his sister.
“Definitely not,” Claudia agreed. “I’m stuffed.”
“From the lettuce?” Jack asked curiously.
“It expands in your stomach,” Claudia said matter-of-factly.
“Okay,” Jack said easily before turning to Kate. “Wanna grab some ice cream on the way home?”
“Make it gelato, and you’ve got a deal.”
He lifted his hand for a high five, which she returned with a grin.
Kennedy tipped back the remainder of his wine in one large swallow.
“This was so fun,” Claudia said a few minutes later as the four of them stepped out onto the sidewalk outside the restaurant. “We should definitely do it again soon.”
“Absolutely,” Jack agreed, helping Kate into her coat. “We’ll at least see you next weekend, right?”
“Ah . . .” Claudia frowned in confusion.
Shit. “My parents’ anniversary party,” Kennedy said, hoping to save her embarrassment. “You can still come?”
“Oh! Sure. Yes. I’m so sorry, I must have totally spaced on it.”
She met his eyes just for a moment, her gaze questioning. She hadn’t forgotten. He hadn’t invited her, not that he’d intentionally intended not to. He just hadn’t gotten
around to it . . .
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jack lean down and murmur something in Kate’s ear that made her laugh.
“Saturday at five. Please come,” he said to Claudia, even as guilt gnawed at the realization he was asking her for all of the wrong reasons.
12
Friday, April 12
Kate’s gaze flicked to her cell phone that was faceup on her desk, even as her fingers kept typing out an email to Jarod Lanham’s assistant, arranging a time next week for Matt to swing by Jarod’s office.
Her phone had been lighting up for the past five minutes with a string of messages from Lara, each and every one a gentle inquisition about last night’s double date. She was surprised her friend had managed to wait this long. Sabrina had barely made it to eight a.m. before starting her interrogation.
How’d it go?
Was it weird?
Did Claudia bring her own green smoothie?
Was Kennedy a dick?
Is Jack a good kisser?
Kate had yet to reply to the messages, at least not via text. In her head, though . . .
Yes, last night was weird as heck, sitting next to the guy I’m dating, across from my boss.
No, Claudia didn’t bring her own smoothie, though it was a close call. Kate was all for eating healthy and completely respected anyone’s right to choose a salad, but she’d have preferred a little less talking about the carb-free life and the magic of giving up gluten. It had almost ruined her ravioli.
Almost.
Kate would take her pasta over the shiny hair Claudia had promised any day. Besides, Kate’s hair was already shiny. Shinier than Claudia’s, if she did say so herself. Gluten for the win, thank you very much.
As for whether Kennedy was a dick . . . Yes, obviously.
And Jack being a good kisser . . .
Her phone flashed again, and Kate glanced down, then did a double take when she realized Lara was apparently reading her mind from across town.
Did he kiss you?
She sent the email to Jarod’s assistant, then picked up her phone, catching up on Lara’s messages. They were more or less the same as Sabrina’s, phrased just slightly softer.
Kate started a group message to both women. Sorry, busy day, just now catching up on texts.
That much was true. It was seven thirty p.m. She was still at the office and had another half hour or so of work to do, unless she wanted to work over the weekend. Which she didn’t.
Just a couple of weeks ago, she would have. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do. Now she had plans for brunch, the opera, potentially a nightcap after the opera . . .
She tapped the corner of her iPhone case absently against her palm.
Was she going too fast? She’d just met Jack, and she’d seen him, what, five times in the past week or so?
And yet, about that kissing thing . . . They hadn’t. At least not the way her friends were thinking. She’d wanted to, or at least wanted to want to. And last night, after dinner with Claudia and Kennedy, the moment had been there, as Jack walked her home in the cool spring air, debating whose gelato was better, his chocolate or her pistachio. (For the record, they’d decided the right answer was better together and made their own swirl of sorts.)
But when they’d gotten to her apartment building, and he’d turned to face her, she’d felt only apprehension, followed by relief when he’d dipped his head, not to kiss her mouth but to brush a lingering kiss against her cheek.
She slumped down in her chair. What was wrong with her? A rich, attractive, charming guy was clearly into her. They got along. They laughed. And yet at night, when she closed her eyes and thought of Jack, his features always morphed, just a little. His smile became a little more reluctant, his eyes a little less gold, his jaw a touch more stubborn, the eyebrows thicker . . .
“Kate.”
Her eyes snapped open, and she realized she was doing it again—thinking of him.
“Hey.” She sat up straight and cleared her throat as she looked at a scowling Kennedy. “What do you need?”
“Why do you assume I need something?”
“Because you’re standing in front of your assistant’s desk, giving her a death glare?”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“Well, in that case, thank you for the very gentle wake-up,” she said sarcastically, setting her phone facedown on the desk so he couldn’t see any incoming texts from her friends. “If you don’t need anything, I have some stuff to finish up . . .”
“You almost done?”
“No,” she said. “Why? If you need me to do something—”
“I don’t.” Then he stormed off toward his office.
She rolled her eyes. Good talk.
Twenty minutes later, the security guard called her desk phone. “Hey, Kate, it’s Kevin.”
“Hey, Kev.” She was on a first-name basis with all of the guys downstairs. For that matter, she knew just about everyone in the building. It was what made her good at her job, and being good at her job was what made her love her job. She tucked the phone under her ear so she could keep typing. “What’s up?”
“Just sent a food delivery up your way.”
“Really?”
“Shit. Did you not order something? It was one of the normal guys from Kerrigan’s. They said it was for Wolfe, so I just figured at this hour on a Friday night, it was you.”
Kate glanced over her shoulder at Kennedy’s office door. “Nope, but if it was Kerrigan’s, I know exactly who it’s for.”
She knew what it was, too. Roast beef sandwich, extra jus, extra horseradish, and a mixed green salad instead of Kerrigan’s amazing fries, which, as far as Kate was concerned, was a crime against humanity.
She hung up with Kevin, and a minute later, a delivery guy came through the door carrying a bag with Kerrigan’s logo. No cheap plastic bag and Styrofoam for this joint. The bag was paper, the handles black and sturdy, and she was pretty sure the disposable containers were better quality than the plates in her cupboards at home.
“Hey, Joey,” she said, greeting the familiar deliveryman as she pulled the envelope out of her desk drawer where she kept some cash. Usually she ordered food online and used credit cards, of which she had four—one for each of the guys, plus her own for more general office needs. It kept her expense accounting easier. But she kept cash on hand for when one of the guys got hangry, went rogue, and ordered his own food.
“I’ve got it.” Kennedy emerged from his office, pulling out his wallet, and handing Joey some cash.
Joey fumbled for change, but Kennedy held up a hand. “Keep it.”
“Ah, thanks.” Joey flicked a confused look at Kate, likely because the bill in his hand was a hundred. Kate shrugged and gave him a little enjoy the tip smile.
“That was generous,” she said when Joey was out of earshot.
“Hmm?”
She nodded toward the delivery guy. “You do realize you gave him a hundred-dollar bill, right?”
He held up the bag. “I got two sandwiches.”
“Your poor arteries,” she said, putting the money envelope back in her drawer.
“And yours. Come on.”
She looked up as he headed into his office. “What?”
“One of these is for you. You want it or not?”
She did. She so did. She hadn’t eaten since one, and though she kept a few PowerBars and snacks in the kitchen for late nights, a Kerrigan’s sandwich was way better.
And yet . . .
Kate followed Kennedy to his office and stopped in the doorway. “What’s the catch?”
He was already removing the containers from the bag, placing them on his desk. “No catch.”
“But . . .”
He looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just that in the many years we’ve worked together, you’ve never once suggested we eat together.” She walked into his office and accepted the packet of plastic silverware that he held
out. “Is this because I’m dating your brother? Is that why you’re being nice to me?”
He winced. “Are you dating my brother?”
She tilted her head. “Shooooot. Was that not you at the double date last night? I could have sworn it was.”
Kennedy merely rolled his eyes and went back to unpacking the food. “How was the gelato?”
“Good,” she answered cautiously as she accepted the container he handed her and sat down.
“Pistachio?”
She looked up. “How’d you know I like pistachio?”
Instead of answering, he sat across from her behind his desk and met her gaze. “I owe you an apology for last night.”
That caught her by surprise. Kennedy Dawson wasn’t the apologizing type.
“I was a jerk.”
She laughed and picked up her sandwich. “Kennedy, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re often a jerk.”
He gave her a sharp look. “Is that your word?”
“What word?”
“Your word to describe me. It’s not adorable, obviously. Is it jerk?”
She paused midchew, then resumed, even as she dropped her sandwich and pointed at him. “Aha! That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“This,” she said, gesturing at the food on the desk. “Your buying me dinner and then suggesting we eat together when you’ve never done that before.”
“Maybe I’m just a nice guy,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes she wasn’t accustomed to seeing.
“Oh please,” she said with a laugh. “Save it for someone who hasn’t spent, like, ten thousand hours with you.”
He gave a quick grin, as though her response pleased him. “You want a water?”
She rolled her eyes. “Nice subject change. But yes, please.”
He went to the small fridge in the corner of his office. She’d had one installed in all of the guys’ offices last year. Her official stance was that it was so they could give drinks to their clients on hot summer days without having to wait for her to bring something in from the kitchen. Really, though, she figured the refrigerators were a better use of her time. The guys themselves weren’t the problem, but their clients were divas. Beyond making sure she got ice-cold Fiji to Ian’s clients and room-temp Sanpellegrino to Kennedy’s, plus remembering that Matt’s clients liked electrolyte water, always from a glass never a bottle . . .
