Good with His Hands

by Tanya Michaels

  His brother narrowed his eyes, taking in the rumpled T-shirt that had spent all week in the dryer and jeans that were threadbare at the knees. “Criticism from the man who looks like he slept in his clothes?”

  Actually, I slept naked. In Dani’s arms. Misery clogged his throat, and he swallowed hard. “I need to talk to you.” Just as it would have been unconscionable to let Dani run into his twin without first telling her the truth, he should come clean with his brother.

  “I’m leaving in the next fifteen minutes,” Bryce said, checking his watch. “The firm is hosting a table at a charity auction tonight.”

  “Can I come in if I promise to make it brief?” Maybe a limited amount of time was best. Fifteen minutes probably wasn’t long enough for Bryce to kill him and convincingly stage it to look like an accident.

  “All right.” Bryce stepped aside, his expression impatient.

  The open floor plan of the loft made it seem huge. Gleaming hardwood stretched from the front door to the exposed brick of the back wall. When their mom had badgered Bryce into letting them use the place for their dad’s surprise birthday party, Tara had been effusive over Bryce’s posh surroundings and view of the Atlanta skyline.

  Frowning at the wall opposite them, Sean noticed the expanse of glossy white was broken only by hooks and nails. The framed pictures and set of shelves that had previously hung there were propped against the baseboard below.

  “I’m making room for the painting I’m buying. At the auction,” Bryce said, a pointed reminder that he had somewhere to be.

  How like Bryce. Not only did he know exactly what he planned to bid on, he’d already decided he was going to win. Hell, maybe he would. He wasn’t the family screwup.

  Sean took a deep breath. “It’s about a woman.”

  “Tara?”

  “No, we broke up last month.” Although Sean didn’t speak directly to his brother often, their mom tried to keep everyone updated on family gossip. But she’d been busy preparing for an eleven-night cruise to Hawaii. They wouldn’t be back until the end of the week. “It’s actually a woman who works in your building. Danica...um, about yea tall? Gorgeous brunette, real-estate agent down the hall from you.”

  “Oh.” Bryce nodded. “Right. I know who you’re talking about.”

  His brother’s offhand tone made Sean angry on Dani’s behalf. What had she said when she thought he was Bryce? I’ve been thinking about you all week. She’d noticed Bryce, wanted him. As much as the idea of her desiring his brother put Sean’s teeth on edge, it was almost worse that Bryce had barely registered her existence. She was stunning, special. She deserved a man who—

  Who what? Lies to her? Cold reality sliced through his righteous indignation. Last night, he’d wanted to take a swing at her ex-fiancé, wanted to sock the guy in the nose for hurting her. Congratulations, now you’re the guy hurting her. He was in the mood for a fight, but it was difficult to kick one’s own ass.

  Maybe after he admitted to Bryce what he’d done, his big brother would take care of that for him.

  7

  BRYCE GRAYSON WAS having trouble following the conversation. He was still trying to adjust to the surprise of finding Sean on his doorstep.

  In the entire time Bryce had lived in the loft, his brother had never once dropped by out of the blue. Why would he? Sean had plenty of friends to call when he wanted to hang out; it had been that way since grade school. Bryce, as the twin their parents had always relied on to follow the rules, was more successful in relationships with clear protocols—it was one of the reasons he’d joined a fraternity. From pledging to initiation, there were conventions to follow.

  Sean didn’t need convention. And he’d never needed help with women before, either, so Bryce doubted his brother was here to ask for an introduction to the brunette he’d mentioned.

  He fastened a cuff link, hoping Sean reached his point soon. Punctuality was one of those social conventions Bryce respected. “What does this Danica have to do with anything?”

  “I met her in your office building yesterday. We went out last night...but she thought I was you. I, um, didn’t correct her.”

  “What?” Bryce jerked his head up sharply. “You let her think she was on a date with me?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “It’s identity theft!”

  Sean rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I took your credit cards to Vegas.”

  No, this was far worse! As a kid, Sean had been the type to throw a football in the house, then have the nerve to look shocked when something got broken. Although Bryce no longer knew his brother well, it seemed as though Sean hadn’t changed. He was still charismatic, impulsive and heedless of consequences.

  Bryce had been the worrier. In younger years, he’d worried about his brother getting hurt doing stupid stunts. But by the time Bryce got tested into gifted classes in middle school, their formerly laconic father had given him new focus for his worry. His dad’s favorite conversational theme became the opportunities that would be available if Bryce worked hard enough. Bryce began to feel as if he was shouldering the weight of his family—his mom had never gone to college, and his father only had a vocational degree. While Sean spent his high school years making out with cheerleaders, Bryce was studying for Advance Placement exams, obsessed with not losing his GPA lead to the salutatorian right on his heels.

  “I didn’t set out to lie to her,” Sean defended himself, as if that somehow made anything better. “It happened fast. She was supposed to get married yesterday, but the cheating jerk bailed on her. She was looking for someone to... You would have been all wrong for her! It’s like Tara used to say—”

  “Tara your ex?” His brain hurt. Had his brother descended into daytime drinking? This exchange was making less and less sense.

  Nodding, Sean glowered. “She made a point of frequently mentioning that you’re the successful one, the college-educated architect with the bright future.”

  “So you picked up a woman in my name out of some kind of petty resentment?”

  “Of course not! You don’t understand—”

  “What sane person could? You’ve done some reckless shit, but this borders on criminal.” The thought of trying to make small talk with Danica after his brother’s inexplicable fraud made his stomach tighten. Sean might never have to deal with her again, but Bryce crossed paths with her on a nearly daily basis. “I have to face this woman! Did that even occur to you?”

  “No. I admit, I wasn’t thinking about you while staring into a beautiful woman’s eyes. But I figure it balances out, since you think about yourself enough for the both of us.”

  Bryce’s fists clenched at his sides. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means, you’re a lot more concerned about climbing the ladder of success than the people you left behind. Like our parents—”

  “I’m the one who paid to upgrade their cruise!”

  “Yeah, you threw money at them,” Sean retorted, “like one of the charities you support in the name of networking. How many times have you backed out of family plans because of something ‘important’ like this damn auction?”

  Bryce had never been closer to hitting a person. “It must be so easy to stand in judgment when you weren’t the one expected to succeed.” How dare his jackass brother accuse him of not caring about their family? Why did Sean think he’d come back to Georgia? The problem with Sean is, he doesn’t think.

  “No,” Sean said softly, “I guess I wouldn’t know what that was like.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I didn’t come here to fight. I know I screwed up, and I figured I owed you the truth.”

  “And Danica? She deserves the truth, too.” Bryce sure didn’t want to be the one to explain the whole mess to her.

  “I told her first thing this morning.”

 
First thing? “Are you saying you spent the night with her?” Bryce asked, appalled.

  Sean didn’t reply, but the guilt in his gaze and tic in his jaw were answer enough.

  Another question occurred to Bryce as his brother reached for the door. “What were you doing at my office in the first place?”

  “Birthday surprise.” Sean flashed a grim smile over his shoulder. “Believe it or not, I walked into that building with the best of intentions.”

  He’d somehow turned a token birthday gesture into a sex scandal? Only my brother. “In the future, do us both a favor and just send an e-card.”

  * * *

  DANI’S MONDAY DID not get off to an auspicious start. After a fitful night of tossing and turning, only managing to drift off an hour before dawn, she overslept. Then she lost more time applying heavier makeup than normal in an attempt to cover the dark circles beneath her eyes. Naturally, she hit every red light possible on her way to work. She arrived at the office twenty minutes late. Which, for her, was like an hour late.

  “Aw, sweetie.” Behind her retro cat’s-eye glasses, the receptionist gazed at her with blatant pity. “Tough weekend, huh?”

  Crap. So much for the concealing power of cosmetics. “Didn’t get a lot of sleep,” Dani admitted. Saturday night, she’d been too busy having enthusiastic sex. Last night? She’d lain in bed plagued by memories of the enthusiastic sex. And it wasn’t as if she could escape the mental replay by sleeping on her couch. Hell, she’d even thought of Sean while standing in the shower this morning, recalling the way he’d—

  “Hon, you want me to hold your calls for a little while?” Although Judy was barely forty, nowhere near old enough to be Dani’s mom, she had a naturally maternal air. “Give you a chance to get your bearings?”

  “Thanks, Judy, but I’ll be okay.”

  “You sure? It must be hard, being here when you’re supposed to be on your honeymoon right now.”

  A brittle laugh escaped Dani. She kept forgetting people expected her to be upset about the wedding. She’d done some soul-searching after Meg left yesterday and had reached an epiphany. If she and Tate hadn’t been on separate continents, they would have broken up much sooner. The geographic distance between them had allowed them to ignore the personality clashes and the small, grating ways in which they weren’t compatible. She still thought he was slime for being unfaithful before ending their relationship, but she could honestly say he’d done her a favor by calling off the wedding.

  Look at you, being all philosophical and emotionally mature. Maybe there would come a day when she could view Sean Grayson’s actions with such a forgiving eye. In about ninety years or so.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Judy snapped her fingers. “Your dad called first thing and asked if I could remind you about your dinner date today. I was surprised he called the office number instead of phoning you directly, but he said something’s wrong with your cell?”

  Dani sighed. “I was ducking calls this weekend.”

  “Understandable. Can I get you anything? Coffee, glass of water? Some of those miniature chocolate bars we all steal from the jar on Spencer’s desk?”

  “Thanks,” she said, heading toward her office, “but I don’t need anything.” Except a time machine. What were the chances the receptionist had one of those handy? I should check the supply closet.

  Dani wanted to go back to Saturday afternoon, when she’d been working alone in the office. If she had it all to do over again, she’d leave the building five minutes later. Or five minutes earlier. Either way worked as long as she could avoid Sean’s alluring smile and captivating blue eyes.

  Ironically, being with him had been part of what helped her see Tate had never been right for her. There was too much contrast between the two men, too much difference in her reaction and her comfort level. If she ever tried to settle down again—a prospect that now made her shudder—it should be with someone who made her laugh. And her toes curl. She’d always thought her sex life with Tate was adequate, if a bit conventional, but if you were going to spend the rest of your life being monogamous, shouldn’t it be with someone who left you breathless?

  Not necessarily. Not if the trade-off is that he’s also an unscrupulous liar.

  She was grateful when her phone rang, giving her a different outlet for her focus. “Danica Yates, speaking.”

  “Erik Frye,” the attorney on the other end of the phone identified himself. “You know, the guy who’s going to dominate in fantasy baseball.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what you said about your fantasy football team, and we both know how that turned out. What have you got for me this morning?”

  He updated her on the title work that had been done on a property, assuring her that the check hadn’t revealed any red flags, and confirmed the time of a closing this week. He concluded the call with, “Looking forward to seeing you Wednesday afternoon.”

  Hanging up the phone, she sighed. Why couldn’t she have developed an attraction to Erik instead of the architect down the hall? Erik was a decent guy, smart with a nice smile, not noticeably shorter than she was. He’d been divorced for a little over a year; he and his wife, also a lawyer, maintained an amicable relationship. Life would be simpler if she’d decided to go out with Friendly Attorney.

  But, no. You had to lust after the unattainable hottie. She was not looking forward to bumping into Bryce. Even knowing that he had nothing to do with what had happened, it would be weird to face someone who looked just like Sean.

  “You busy?” Renee Lloyd, the head licensed broker, poked her head into the office. She was a dynamic redhead with big presence. When Dani stood right next to her, she was always surprised anew that she was nearly a foot taller.

  “Always. But never too busy for you.”

  Chuckling, Renee entered the office. “Good answer. Couple of things. Sonia Donavan is going to call you. She and I have done several commercial deals together, but now she needs someone who specializes in residential. She and her husband are divorcing and need to sell their house. Also, can we count you in again this summer as an assistant coach?” This would be the fourth year running that they’d sponsored a girls’ softball team.

  “Absolutely.” Part of networking and building their names in the community was being an active part of the community. Some of the other agents, especially ones who had their own kids with active sports schedules, grumbled about the extra hours, but Dani looked at it as a perk of the job.

  “Oh, and Magnolia Grove is opening a model home this week,” Renee added. “Two different floor plans should be available in the next couple of months. Great location and school district.”

  Dani nodded. From what she’d heard, a lot of the houses in the first phase of the subdivision had been purchased directly through the builder. Now the second phase was under way. Visiting the neighborhood was on her to-do list, as was familiarizing herself with the builder’s preregistration policy. She’d heard tales from old-school brokers about adversarial relationships with builders, but that hadn’t been her experience. Renee frequently reminded them that the more people they got along with, the more sales they closed.

  “I’m planning to stop by the subdivision this week,” Dani said.

  “Great. I’ll let you get back to work, then. Watch for an email from Spencer with the softball schedule.”

  Dani had about an hour to spend on paperwork before she left to show some houses. She’d called the client that morning to see if they could meet at a nearby coffee shop. Dani planned to get her usual chai latte there. It wasn’t a workable long-term strategy, avoiding the downstairs vendor in hopes that Bryce Grayson eventually transferred to Walla Walla, but it would get her through today.

  By late afternoon, she’d hit her stride, happy with a number of new leads and feeling more herself than when she’d rolled out of bed. As
predicted, Sonia Donavan phoned to discuss putting her house on the market. Although the woman was clearly bitter about her divorce, she had a razor-sharp sense of humor that had Dani biting her lip to stifle inappropriate laughter. She was grateful to find herself in a brighter mood leading up to dinner with her dad. She needed to convince him she wasn’t brokenhearted over Tate.

  Frankly, now that she’d had time and perspective to reevaluate her relationship, she was surprised her father had ever approved of the man. Next to her father, Tate Malcolm was such a small person. Literally and figuratively. Then again, it wasn’t as if the two men had spent tons of time together.

  “Um, Danica?”

  Startled, she looked up from the unfinished email she was supposed to be typing. Great—it had taken her all day to assure Judy she was okay and now the receptionist caught her zoned out and staring into space. Oh, well. If the concerned woman brought some mini candy bars to cheer her up, Dani would just have to throw herself on the chocolate sword and eat a couple. It was the polite thing to do.

  “What can I do for you, Judy?”

  “Not for me.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, her eyes the size of silver dollars. “For him. You’ll never believe who’s here to see you!” She dropped her voice again. By the time she added, “Hot Architect,” Dani was lipreading.

  Bryce Grayson had come to see her? Unlikely.

  Sean.

  Her heart thudded madly in her chest. She told herself it was an adrenaline surge caused by anger. There was absolutely no part of her that was eager to see him; she had more self-respect than that. More willpower. She couldn’t undo Tate cheating on her or her stolen weekend with Sean, but she could learn from her mistakes. No more liars for me.

  “Danica?” Judy prompted. “Do you want me to show him in?”

  Hell, no. But dodging him felt cowardly. He was the one who should have difficulty facing her, not the other way around.