“Really. For example?”
“Meredith Lloyd—”
He choked. “Gavin’s baby sister? Are you serious?”
She continued, undeterred. “Beatrice Sterling.” Beatrice was from an impeccable family, superbly wealthy too. There was nothing to nitpick about the Sterlings.
“Under the thumb of that horrible autocratic curmudgeon? No thanks.”
“Isabelle Hall.”
“Not marrying into a political family. That’d be worse than Barron Sterling.”
“Well, there—”
“Forget it, Hilary.” He swatted her suggestions away. “I’m not going with anybody but you. If you back out now, I won’t be able to avoid that woman Mom picked out.”
Her mouth formed an O. “Really?”
“Yeah. Look, I want to take you to the party. You, not some other woman. Why is that so hard to believe?”
Mutely she stared at him. No man had ever wanted just her. No man had ever made her want to believe what he felt for her was true.
His expression slowly turned into an unreadable mask. “Let’s cut to the chase, Hilary. If you don’t want to go with me, just say so. Forget about owing me a favor. People are going to know if I bring a date who’d rather be somewhere else.”
That’s not your problem
.
Say no
, the smarter part of her urged, but somehow she couldn’t do it. “Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll go.”
“And this has nothing to do with that Morrigan’s thing.”
“No.”
His shoulders relaxed. He put the tray off on the side and leaned in until their lips were almost touching. She pulled back, eyes wide.
“You’re going to get whatever I have,” she whispered.
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth. “I don’t care.”
“You will when you get sick.”
“Then we’ll C and R.”
“What?” she said shakily, unable to keep her gaze from darting between his eyes and his lips.
“Cuddle and Recuperate.” He gave her a wink that was breathtakingly sexy. “Now shut up and kiss me, woman.”
Hilary pressed her warm, moist mouth against his, and he almost groaned at how much he’d missed her. He couldn’t quite believe she’d said yes. He’d been sure she would pull away like she always did. It was crazy how victorious and invincible that one simple word made him feel. Countless women had said it before, but it had never had the same effect.
There was so much shyness in the touch, as though they’d never kissed before.
Or maybe it was him who kissed like he’d never done it. All the other women crumbled in his memory like pillars of salt. All he cared about was Hilary.
And with the sense of elation came a sense of responsibility—he could never hurt her. Having her in his arms like this was a privilege that made his heart sing. She made him hopeful for things he’d never dared hope for.
Her tongue brushed against his as she tightened her grip around his shoulders, and all his thoughts scattered. All he could focus on was this gorgeous woman in his arms who was melting against him the way he’d fantasized for weeks…months…maybe even longer.
He cupped her curvy butt in his hand, pulling her closer.
He had no idea what it was about Hilary that made him want to be so careful around her. There was a part of him that said he’d only get one chance to make anything of this, and that any wrong move would screw it up for him and hurt her. He ran his hand along her smooth curves and groaned. Damn, she made him so hard with those sexy noises in her throat. He wanted to take this as far as they could go…have her fall apart in his arms…until he remembered the soup tray that was lying next to her.
Shit
. What kind of a jerk seduced a woman when she was sick?
Reluctantly he pulled back. There was a question in her eyes.
“Hey.” He kissed her on the forehead. “No hanky-panky when you’re sick. Get some rest, sweetheart.”
She sighed. “I should’ve known you’d say that.”
“You should have?”
“Despite your reputation, you’re a pretty good guy.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “But if you tell anybody I said so, I’ll deny it.”
“Okay. It’ll just be our secret.”
It wasn’t like anybody would believe it anyway. He wasn’t the nicest guy when it came to women. There were reasons why his exes were called Quarterly Girls. And as much as he’d like to blame them for becoming boring, he couldn’t help but wonder—after all, he was the only common point in those failed relationships. Many of them had gone on to date the same guy much longer than three months. A few had even gotten married.
He took the tray to the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. Keys rattled at the door, and Josephine walked in. She looked fashionable as usual in a sleeveless red Dior and stilettos. A loopy two-tone metal belt cinched her small waist, and her hair was flung over one shoulder. “Oh, you’re still here. The doorman said you’d come in. What’s up?”
“Heard Hilary’s sick, so I came by to see how she’s doing.”
“Looks like it’s more than that.” She sniffed. “Did you cook something?”
He laughed. “I don’t cook. I employ cooks.”
“Huh.” Giving him an assessing look, she dumped her purse and shopping bags on the couch. He’d never seen her without at least one glossy bag from some boutique shop in the city. “Why are you really here?”
“I just told you.”
“Yeah, but if you’d just wanted to know how she’s doing, you could’ve called. There wasn’t any reason for you to actually come over, much less bring food. And from the smell of it, you didn’t bring canned soup.”
“Luc—that’s the chef from La Mer—offered to make it. You think I should have said no?”
“You’re a terrible liar, Mark. Why would Luc do that?” She sat down. “Look, you and I both know where you want to take this. But it’d be nice if you’d just step back and let her be. She’s not in the best place emotionally.”
Her warning set his teeth on edge. It seemed like nobody wanted him and Hilary to be together. “Are you saying I had something to do with that?”
Josephine studied her impeccable manicure and frowned as though she’d found a flaw, which was doubtful. The kind of places women like her went to didn’t screw up. She looked up at him, grimacing like she’d just bitten into a clam and gotten sand. “No.”
“Then what is it?”
“Bebe’s back.”
“Her cousin, right?”
“That’s one word for her. And whenever she’s around, things aren’t good for Hilary. Bebe is just bad news, start to finish.”
“I’m sensing that you don’t like her.”
“She’s a worthless skank. She’s doing everything in her power to live just like her mother, and it bothers her that Hilary won’t. That she’s trying for something better.”
“Yeah, Bebe told me about the whole ménage thing.”
“Oh god, she did?” Josephine folded her arms in front of her and looked to the side, her teeth on edge. “Unbelievable. It’s like she thinks it’s some kind of badge of honor to have lived through that childhood.”
“Well…isn’t it?”
Her jaw slackened. “Are you serious?”
“To survive something like that?” Mark wasn’t sure if he would’ve been able to. “It didn’t sound pretty at all.”
“Surviving is what any animal would do. It’s making something of yourself that earns the badge. Nobody can choose how they were born and raised, but everyone can choose how they’re going to live.”
Her words robbed him of air, and he swallowed a small gasp as his heart pounded with something that felt awfully like a bitter old hope. “What if they can’t?” he said hoarsely.
Her flat gaze locked with his. “Then they’ll end up like their parents—or worse.”
* * *
Mark drove back to La Mer. He’d forgotten about the dinner he had scheduled with Gavin and his wife Amandine until Larry the Maître d’ had called. As he sped down the road, Mark couldn’t stop thinking about what Josephine had said.
They’ll end up like their parents
—
or worse
.
Was he somehow becoming like his father, going after one woman after another in a string of seemingly carefree relationships that were actually killing him little by little?
Everyone thought Salazar had the greatest life. He’d been born handsome, charming and wealthy, he’d married one of the most beautiful women of his generation, and—best of all—his wife didn’t seem to care about his mistresses.
And yet, hadn’t he lost something in all that?
Mark thought about how his mother had changed. When he was young she had laughed every day, spent a lot of time with the family… She’d arranged for fun vacations and other family gatherings.
But now…
The Fourth of the July party was a huge aberration. The most the family ever managed was the annual Christmas party, if either of his parents felt like delegating the task to one of their assistants. The oldest of the children, Dane, didn’t even pretend to want to come. He generally found a reason not to be available—usually work. Apparently even though the western world didn’t work on Christmas, Asia did, so he’d spend his Christmas there doing one of his deals.
But that wasn’t all. Mark knew his father had been forced to let go of the one great love of his life because he couldn’t change his ways. And it wasn’t just the woman he’d missed. He’d fathered a son with her, but hadn’t been aware of that fact until recently because he hadn’t been able to do what he needed to do to keep her. So he’d missed that son’s entire childhood.
That didn’t feel like a great life.
At La Mer, Gavin and his wife Amandine were already seated. The lovebirds sat closely, chatting in low voices. Amandine laughed softly at something Gavin said and touched the tip of his nose with hers. The sight made Mark happy—he was glad they’d been able to work out their marital issues. But a small pang of envy twisted in his heart at the same time. He wanted it too—this kind of bliss and openness. The problem was he didn’t know how to get it, and it shamed him that he felt something as ugly as envy for his friend and his wife.
“Hey,” Mark said. “Sorry I’m late.”
Amandine straightened up. “No problem. We just got here ourselves. You look good, Mark.” She gave him a friendly smile. She was one of the sweetest women he knew, and even if he’d been an hour late, she still would’ve said, “We just got here.”
“Where have you been? Larry said you were gone more or less all afternoon.”
“Oh. I stopped by your firm earlier, but Sally said you were in a meeting. Then I went to Josephine’s place to see if Hilary needed anything.”
“And that took you all afternoon?” Gavin raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a long list of things she needs.”
Mark knew the comment was intended as a jibe, but it still annoyed him. What did his best friend know about what Hilary needed? She was the one who catered to him all the time, not the other way around. “You’re just real sure, huh? Have you called or checked up on Hilary at all?”
“Well, no, but I’m sure—”
“You know what? She did tell me what she wanted,” Mark said. “And you’re right, it wasn’t a long list, but at the top was an assistant who could help her.”
“Really?” Gavin said, and Amandine’s face fell.
“Oh shoot,” she said. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve known.”
“It’s got nothing to do with you, love,” Gavin said, but she shook her head.
“No, it does. I hate having an assistant around, so I’ve sort of gone without since Brooke quit. But I’m sure that just means Hilary now has more on her plate.”
“She hasn’t complained about it being too much for her.”
“You can be
so
obtuse. Just because she doesn’t complain doesn’t mean you can make her do a two-person job by herself. She’s not a robot.”
A frown creased Gavin’s forehead. “You’re right. I should’ve thought about that.”
“I’ll hire an assistant ASAP,” Amandine promised. “I’m glad you brought it up, Mark. I’m sure Hilary wouldn’t have. She seems to thrive on mountains of work, but that doesn’t mean it’s good for her.”
Amandine was wrong. Hilary didn’t thrive when her to-do list was bursting with tasks. She just worked even harder so that she wouldn’t disappoint her boss.
Then it hit Mark. She was trying to be everything to Gavin, so he’d never fire her, no matter what. But why would she do that? She could probably do better—the same money for better hours and less stress—by going elsewhere.
“So what’s going on between the two of you?” Gavin sipped his white. “You sent her flowers and chocolates every day, went to the charity event together…then you suddenly stopped, and now you were at her place for hours. What gives?”
“We’re dating.”
“Seriously?”
“You think I do those things with just any woman?”
“Well…yeah.” Mark gave him a sour look, and Gavin spread his hands. “Hey, what can I say? But honestly, Hilary? She’s not your type, and you don’t do relationships.”
Mark ground his teeth. At the rate things were going, he was going to be down to his gums soon. “She totally
is
my type, and I
do
do relationships.”
“Three months here and there doesn’t count. Besides, if anything goes wrong during the next quarter, you’re on your own. I’m not taking sides on this one.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy,” Mark snapped. “My own fuc”—he bit the word off in deference to Amandine—“best friend thinks I’m going to fail.”
Gavin’s eyebrows rose, his eyes round and unblinking. “Totally wrong. I think you’re going to lose interest.”
Mark was about to fire off another sharp retort when Amandine smiled and laid a hand on Gavin’s arm. “Please excuse him. Of course you can do relationships. You just haven’t met the right woman yet. Your time will come. Or maybe it already has with Hilary.”
Her soothing voice and words deflated Mark’s irritation. Technically it wasn’t fair for him to be angry at Gavin. He was right not to take sides in the situation. He’d often said Hilary was worth her weight in gold, and he wouldn’t want to lose her if Mark fumbled the ball.
But it hurt and annoyed him that people expected him to screw up.
Hilary wanted to return to the office on Monday, but Gavin had texted her to take both Monday and Tuesday off. After four full days of rest she felt fine. Not surprising—she’d never taken so much time off to do nothing except sleep and then sleep some more. Then there was the pampering. Jo had been too busy, but Mark was coming by every day and spending hours with her, heating up whatever his chef had decided to make for them and watching movies. They’d started out with horror flicks—his choice, not hers. When she’d laughed at the scary scenes instead of jumping into his arms, he stopped the movie and said, “Okay, never mind. What are you in the mood for?”