“Did you work out the roommate problem?” asked Lola from farther down the table. She had Monica and Zoe’s long black hair, but her eyes were the same brown their father’s had been, while Zoe shared Monica’s vibrant green.
Zoe wondered why she had noticed suddenly how grown up her sister looked, but realized it was because she was focusing on her own progression too. She was twenty-one and out of college. About to start a career, she was a woman in the eyes of the world.
So why did sitting beside Hale still leave her feeling like an awkward teenager?
“Hello, Earth to Zoe?”
“Huh?” She blinked, focusing on Lola again. “Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you worked out the roommate problem?”
“What roommate problem?” asked Hale, sounding only politely disinterested.
“My friend and I had planned to share an apartment in New York, at least for the summer, but her plans have changed.”
“The city is so expensive,” said Monica, looking worried. “And Zoe is too stubborn to accept help.”
“I’m an adult, Mom, and I need to pay my own way.” Zoe couldn’t explain to her mother why she was reluctant to take money from Andy. He was a great guy and had been a good father figure the past six years, but it just felt wrong to take his money. She thought she would have felt the same if her mother had been offering the funds, or if Sam Halston had left anything besides debt behind for his wife and daughters.
“Stay with me,” said Hale.
“What?” asked Zoe and Andy in unison.
“Really?” asked Lola, looking enthused. “That would be neat, huh, Zoe?”
“Neat,” she agreed with a marked lack of enthusiasm.
Andy wiped his mouth. “That sounds like a bad idea to me, Hale.”
Hale stared at his father for a second before lifting a hand. “I should clarify that Zoe would be staying in my apartment, but I won’t be there. I’m in the middle of a delicate deal and will spend most of the summer in Europe.” He turned to her, flashing her that smile that had charmed panties off girls since he was old enough to use it for that purpose. “You’d be doing me a favor, sis.”
She shuddered at the word, but forced herself to sound normal. “How’s that?”
“I’d planned to hire a pet sitter to take care of Bomber while I’m away.”
Zoe didn’t try to fight the smile that bloomed on her face. “You still have that old cat?”
“Heck, yeah. Bomber’s my mate…pal.” A touch of red at his ears was adorable in an alarming way, making her heart race. “Too long among the Brits, I guess.”
“You do have a touch of the accent,” said his grandmother.
“How much for the rent?” asked Lola, ever-practical even at sixteen. She was an accountant trapped in a Goth girl’s body.
“Nothing, of course. What kind of creep charges family, especially since Zoe would be doing me a favor by taking care of Bomber?”
“That sounds like a great idea,” said Monica before arching a brow. “That won’t be too much for your stubborn pride, will it, Zoe?”
Her face burned hot with embarrassment, but she shook her head. “Thanks, Hale.” What she really wanted to do was shove away from the table, toss the offer in his face, and storm out.
Still, how bad could it be? She’d have an apartment to herself, aside from an elderly cat, and she wouldn’t have to use any of the money she’d saved the past three years working as a makeup counterperson at Macy’s on her rent. Hale wouldn’t be there, so there was no good reason to say no. “It’s very generous of you.”
“We’re family.” There appeared to be the slightest hint of irony in his voice, but it disappeared when he spoke again. “I’m happy to help you out, Zoe.”
Chapter Two
New York was everything she’d heard it would be—crowded, hot, unfriendly, and expensive. Zoe loved it despite its flaws and settled into Hale’s small but luxurious studio apartment easily enough. Within two weeks, she felt like she’d been living there forever. Her internship at the museum had the same sense of familiarity, and she had a good feeling about getting a permanent position at the end of the unpaid internship.
Bomber was a considerate roommate who only rarely spilled water on the floor or scattered cat food around the kitchen. He was content to curl up on her lap at night and let her rub his ears while he purred with quiet contentment.
It was the closest thing she’d come to a date in years, and she didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed that it was Hale’s cat who was filling the void for companionship, since the man himself had been the one to screw her up for dating others.
Her sense of routine came to a screeching halt when she returned to the apartment almost three weeks after moving in. Tired from a long day of cataloguing Roman undergarments, which was more taxing than she had expected, she opened the door and stepped inside before it hit her that she hadn’t had to unlock it first.
That was wrong, and she was immediately sure someone had broken into the apartment to…cook lasagna? Sniffing deeply, she was certain she smelled Grandma Nora’s pasta sauce, which was always paired with béchamel and homemade lasagna noodles. Monica had been married to Andy for three years before Nora had trusted her with the recipe.
“Mom?” she called.
The swinging door to the kitchen opened, revealing the startling and unlikely sight of Hale in suit trousers, an oxford shirt rolled to his elbows, and a serviceable black apron. Flour dotted the front and a smear lingered on his cheek.
It was a devastatingly sexy sight, and she had to catch her breath and count to three before she did something crazy, like throw herself at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” he said with a neutral smile.
Zoe nodded. “Yeah, of course.” Awkwardly, she shifted on the balls of her feet. “Um, I meant what are you doing home right now?”
“Making lasagna.”
Her eyes widened. “You know how to make Nora’s lasagna?”
He nodded. “She showed me when I was just fourteen. We bonded over the process. That was the year my mom died, and she used cooking therapy to communicate with me when I was an uncommunicative teenage boy who didn’t know how to express my anger and grief.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.” Hale was a whiz in the kitchen? It had never occurred to her, simply because he seemed too impressive and above mere mortals to engage in such domestic simplicity. Apparently not though.
She drew her full lower lip between her teeth before releasing it. “Shouldn’t you be in England though?”
“I’m home for a bit.”
“Oh, okay.” Zoe cast a glance at the living room-cum-bedroom, where a large king-size bed dominated most of the space. She had slept on it almost every night since moving in, but only after investing in her own set of sheets. The idea of using the same sheets Hale slept on had been too intimate, and she’d spent the first night on the leather loveseat. Dreading a return to that torture device, she decided to worry about that later and focus on just getting through a civilized dinner with Hale first.
Unless… “Are you expecting company? A woman? I can make myself scarce.”
Hale grinned. “I did cook for a beautiful woman.”
“Um, okay. Do I have a few minutes to change to something more casual, or is she coming right away?”
Hale chuckled and walked closer. “It’s you, Zoe. I made dinner for you.”
“Oh.” Swaying toward him, as though he’d drawn her with a mysterious magnetic pull, she barely managed to keep from reaching out to wipe the flour off his cheek. “That’s great. Thanks. Do I have time to change?”
He nodded. “You have about ten minutes. Can I pour you a glass of wine to go with dinner?”
“Sure.” Zoe hurried toward the bathroom, taking a moment to grab yoga pants and a modest tank top from the small closet in the hallway. Once safely enclosed in the bathroom, she leaned against the door, wishing for a lock, and took seve
ral deep breaths for calm.
Trying to push aside her nervousness, she stripped off the linen skirt and button-down blouse. Out of habit, she removed her bra and had dropped it on the pile before reconsidering. Zoe stared at her breasts in the mirror, debating if she needed the bra to cover her small endowment, or if she could get by with the tank, as she typically did.
Reminding herself she had worn very similar clothes in front of Hale many times in the past, she slipped on the yoga pants and tank. As she started to leave the bathroom, she also remembered the night she’d been in his arms, and her feelings had changed from innocent to sexual in moments.
Quickly, she pulled off the tank and refastened the white bra before putting on the top. With a final glance in the mirror, deciding the bun she’d wound her dark hair into that morning was still intact enough for a casual dinner with her stepbrother, she opened the bathroom door and tried to walk normally down the hall, toward the kitchen.
When she pushed open the swinging door that separated the kitchen and dining space from the rest of the studio apartment, she found two plates at the breakfast bar, along with a full glass of wine. Hale stood at the stove, his own glass on the nearby counter, as he tossed a salad.
“Can I help?”
“No, thanks. I have it all under control.” He sipped his wine. “Just sit down and relax.”
Zoe nodded, sliding awkwardly into the tall chair. Nervousness made her motions graceless. Thankfully, he was too occupied with finishing the salad and turning off the oven timer to notice.
By the time he turned around after sitting the lasagna on the stove, she hoped she looked composed. The death grip on her wineglass bordered on white-knuckled, but she couldn’t completely relax. “It smells delicious.” That wasn’t a lie, and her stomach growled.
Her eyes grew big as he dished them up a serving from the huge pan. Unless he was planning to take some back to England, she’d have leftover lasagna for days. Still, there were worse things—like eating her own cooking.
The wine was crisp and tart, making it slide easily down her throat. She’d already finished half a glass by the time he’d stripped off his apron and hopped onto the chair beside hers. Their knees touched, but she couldn’t scoot over any farther in the small space.
“How was your day?” he asked as they ate.
“Fine.”
“Do you like working at Sarta?”
Zoe dabbed at her mouth with a linen napkin before answering. “I do. There is a lot of variety, and it seems like a good place to launch a career.”
“You’re planning to stay in the city then?” He speared a tomato on his fork as he asked.
She nodded. “If they’ll have me. I love San Diego, but I kind of feel like I’ve outgrown it.” Zoe found it easy to laugh and realized her wine glass was full again. “That sounds silly, considering how large it is, but I want to be someone else.”
“It’s hard with the family there reminding you of who you were.”
She nodded, a thrill shooting through her that he understood so well what she meant. “Is that why you left, Hale?” Somehow, she managed to make the question sound casual, though she was desperate for an explanation that was three years overdue.
“No, not really.” He focused his attention on his plate.
Zoe took a deep breath, reaching for her glass to drain it. “Then why?”
Hale looked up, his expression dark. “Dad told me to get out until I was able to come back.”
She frowned. “That’s completely confusing and makes no sense.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It makes perfect sense, but I guess you had to be there.” With renewed vigor, he turned to eating, making it clear he was done with the discussion.
Sighing with frustration, Zoe reached for her glass, surprised to find it refilled again. From the corner of her eye, she stared at her stepbrother, finding his glass half-filled. The wine bottle looked almost empty, so who had drunk the majority of the wine? Was it her?
That would explain why she was suddenly sleepy and dizzy-headed. Stifling a yawn, Zoe returned her attention to the pasta, hoping it would soak up the wine she had too freely imbibed.
The room was quiet as they finished eating. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, laden with unspoken emotions and unasked questions, but she didn’t have the courage to break the silence and demand answers. Instead, she ate until her head no longer spun, studiously avoiding more wine.
“Dessert?”
Zoe let out a little groan. “No, thanks. I wouldn’t know where to put it.”
His gaze burned as it raked down her body, resting for an overly long second on her breasts and the curve of her hips. It reminded her of how thin and beanpole-like she’d been the last time they had been so close to each other. How she’d been crying about how plain she was, and he’d offered comfort.
Clearing his throat, he looked away with a nod. “It’s just some ice cream, so it can wait.”
“Yeah.” Sliding to her feet, she was standing so close to him. Neither of them had gained any height in the last three years. He was still just about five inches taller than her own five-nine, and it was nice to have a man who stood above her. It made her feel safe rather than smothered, and she had to resist the urge to grab hold of the front of his shirt and pull him closer.
He’s your brother. What the fuck is wrong with you?
That annoying voice in the back of her head, the one of reason that she had to heed, snapped her out of her haze, and she took a step back, busying herself with the task of putting away the salad as Hale cut the lasagna and portioned it into smaller containers to store in the freezer.
Once again silence stretched between them, making her overly conscious of the deepness of his breathing, the tang of his cologne, and the sound of his fabric rustling with each move he made. Clumsily, she shoved the container of salad into the fridge and focused on loading the dishwasher. Anything to keep her gaze from him and her body out of his proximity.
When that was done, she thanked him for dinner and escaped from the kitchen to the living room. That wasn’t much of an escape, since there were few places one could go in an eight-hundred-square-foot apartment, but just being out of his sight helped restore her sense of calm.
On autopilot, Zoe moved to the loveseat. As soon as she sat down, the striped tabby slunk out from wherever he’d been napping and jumped onto her leg. Bomber gave her a green-eyed stare, dug his claws into the cotton of her yoga pants, and stretched before plopping on her lap.
She reached for the remote, her heart racing as the minutes ticked past. She was dreading Hale’s reappearance and hoped he had plans for the night. When he finally emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later, she barely looked at him.
“I’m going out to meet some friends for a drink. You wanna join us?”
Zoe shook her head. After the wine she’d drank, the last thing she needed was more alcohol. The idea of meeting his friends was daunting, especially if they included the female variety, and she wanted to be out of his presence, not spending more time with him. “Thanks, but I’m going to relax.”
“Okay.” Hale disappeared down the hallway, pausing briefly at the closet to select something from his shelves and rod before entering the bathroom. The water came on a couple of minutes later.
Zoe moaned low in her throat, her head sinking backward against the couch as she imagined him in the stall. If his preferences were the same as when they had shared a bathroom, he liked his water hot, so there would be a haze of steam in the air. The citrusy shower gel he used was more potent in the heat, and she could almost smell it teasing her nose, though she wasn’t really close enough to the bathroom.
Her breathing grew shallow as she imagined his large hands moving over his muscular frame, slippery with the foamy soap. Imagining the frothy white lather covering his body, she moaned again, unable to resist picturing her fingers running over that soaped skin.
In her mind’s eye, she splayed her hand across his abd
omen and mimicked the motion on her own stomach. Slowly, she let her fingers glide down his skin, seeking out the hard length of him. On the loveseat, her fingers crept into the waistband of her yoga pants and under her panties. As she imagined stroking his cock, her own fingers expertly caressed her flesh, working her into a state of slick need in no time.
Zoe kept the image of his body in her mind, drawing on memories of having seen him without his shirt when they shared a house, though she had never seen him naked. Her imagination helpfully filled in the blanks, and she had no trouble visualizing her stepbrother lifting her in his arms, hands under her buttocks, and driving the length of his erection into her core.
Her fingers took the path she wanted his cock to blaze as her thumb circled her clitoris. Zoe whimpered and barely bit back the urge to cry his name as she came. It was only as the post-orgasmic rush faded that she realized the shower was no longer running. Having no idea how long it had been since he’d stopped the water, she jerked her hand out of her panties and pressed it under her thigh, as though she could hide what she had done by keeping her hand out of sight.
It was a silly, irrational action, but she still kept her hand pressed there as her heart slowed back to normal. Cautiously, Bomber approached her, giving her a wary glare as he returned to his position on her lap. She had inadvertently displaced him during her heated self-pleasuring.
Hale appeared less than a minute later, his body wash and cologne mingling to make the scent that would always be his. He paused for a second as he entered the living room space, frowning and inhaling deeply. After a moment of stillness, he moved again, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“Well, I’ll see you later, Zoe.” He scooped up his keys from a small ceramic dish on the table near the door. “Have a good night.”
“Thanks, you too.” Her voice was still husky with passion, and she couldn’t deny her nerve endings had started tingling again the moment he’d entered the room. She couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t go for round-two as soon as he’d left the apartment, especially with the tantalizing sight of his tight jeans resting low on his hips, easily visible through the heather-gray T-shirt stretched over his tight muscles and flat stomach.
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