Unmistakable

  Yep. I feel about as beautiful as I can possibly feel. I have doubts, but any girl who says that she’s perfectly secure in being beautiful is either a liar or an egotistical psychopath, and I have to hope that I don’t fall into either of those categories.

  As Luke approaches, I straighten my shoulders and toss my head back. “See me.,” I want to scream. After agonizing seconds, his face bursts into an enormous grin. He starts running, the long loose strides accentuating the perfectly toned muscles and golden skin. I would typically be rendered speechless by his blatant display of masculine power, but I’m doing a pretty nice job of chucking that inclination away. I’m on a mission.

  Crap. I haven’t even thought about how I should greet him. Hi or hey? Hey seems too casual, but hi might carry too much underlying meaning, and I don’t want him to read too much into it. Maybe I can give him a sultry smile instead of opening my mouth, but that one has its own inherent problems, since I’m not sure if I have a sultry smile in my repertoire.

  I decide on hey. Hey works.

  He comes to a complete halt at the bottom of the steps, and before I can get out my carefully calculated “hey,” he reaches up and lifts me from my feet, cradling me in his arms like I’m a rag doll.

  “I’ve missed the shit out of you, Stella bella.”

  The hair on the back of my neck automatically bristles at the childhood nickname, which he bestowed on me when I got my first truly awful haircut. The hair grew back, but unfortunately, the nickname stuck.

  But he missed me. More accurately, he missed the shit out of me. And more importantly, he feels and smells every bit as good as he does in my daydreams.

  I abandon all hope that I can actually execute my meticulous plan, my payback for the spiders and jeering and teasing. I was going to use my newly found skills to seduce him, to get him to see me as something other than Jack’s kid sister, to make him beg for me. Then, I imagined laughing cruelly in his face.

  It isn’t good enough. I want Luke. I always have. If I had to guess, I’d say that I always will.

  He spins me around and around until I’m dizzy and breathless and silly. I don’t ever want him to stop, but I squeal when I feel my dress dangling precariously from one shoulder.

  “Stop it. Put me down.”

  “What. You’re going to make me?” He tickles the underside of my chin. Like I’m a freaking dog. Great.

  “Put me down,” I growl.

  “Why?”

  “In about three seconds, I’m going to be naked and then I’ll let you figure out how you’re going to explain that to my father.”

  He drops me unceremoniously on the ground.

  Nothing is going according to plan. Nothing. I am an abject failure at seduction. Ridiculous.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an enormous pain in the ass?” I huff, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Go inside. I’m sure Jack is dying of loneliness. It’s been, what, a whole three days since you two have seen each other? His heart must be breaking.”

  “Oh, I think I might be able to spare a minute or two for my favorite baby sister,” he replies, arching one sardonic eyebrow. “How long have you been waiting for me to arrive? Ten minutes? Fifteen? All day? I don’t like to disappoint women.”

  The use of the word “women” instead of the usual commentary on my status as a mewling baby raises my hopes, but then I realize that he’s being condescending and not flirtatious. That, combined with his pinpoint accuracy on the amount of time I’ve been waiting breathlessly on this porch, fills me with rage.

  I hate him.

  “Stop it.” My plea is whiny and high-pitched, like a six-year-old kid’s instead of a nearly grown, eighteen-year-old woman’s.

  When he lets out one of his trademark mocking laughs, my eyes narrow into slits. I’m pissed. Pissed is good. It’s at least better than pathetically hoping that he’ll pick me up and spin me around again.

  “How’s high school?” he asks, circling me. I whirl around to look him in the eye, but he’s too fast. He only laughs and reaches out to spring a curl loose from my helmet hair, twisting it between his fingers and giving me an appraising look.

  I spit out my answer through clenched teeth. “I’m not in high school anymore.”

  “I could have sworn that you had a couple more years before you graduated. What are you now, sixteen? Stella bella. Sixteen and never been kissed.”

  He knows very well how old I am. Jackass.

  “Isn’t it so sweet of you to think so?”

  His eyes flash. Disbelief, I think. I would have preferred jealousy, but I guess it’s better than nothing. I didn’t even know I could surprise him.

  “That’s it. Whose ass do I have to kick?”

  He sounds exactly like Jack—an overprotective brother instead of a covetous man. This just gets better and better.

  “No one’s. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”

  “Stella bella, all grown up,” he says, his tongue running over his lips. “Still afraid of the dark, I bet. Still afraid of spiders. You will always be the same sweet, adorable, dorky kid.”

  I am going to kill him with my bare hands. It’s going to be messy and loud and I would be willing to bet that no jury in the world will convict me once they’ve heard my side of the story. If I could figure out a way to dispose of the body, I would do it right here and now. In fact, the only thing that’s stopping me from clawing his eyeballs out is the unexpected arrival of my mother.

  “Luke!” She rushes over to him, stopping short when she sees the dangling bow tie. “Really, dear, you should have waited for me. You’re hopeless. Honestly.” She bites her lip and reties it, but before she can start fussing with his hair, he wraps her in an enormous hug.

  My mother has no idea that she’s just saved Luke’s sorry skin. He, on the other hand, is perfectly aware that I was about two seconds away from lending his face some symmetry by putting a scar over his left eyebrow. He winks at me over her shoulder, his entire body shaking with laughter.

  I stick out my tongue.

  When she finally releases him, her eyes dart back and forth between the two of us. “Lucas, have you been torturing my daughter again?”

  “Just a little bit. Nothing our Stella can’t handle.”

  “She’s missed you. She’s been moping around all day and pestering me with questions about you. I think she had doubts about whether or not you were going to grace our little soiree with your presence, even though I assured her that you gave me your word.”

  “I certainly did,” Luke says, giving her a gallant little bow before turning back to me with a wicked expression. “All day, Stella? I underestimated you.”

  An outraged sound escapes my lips, but he doesn’t hear it. My mother, on the other hand, shoots me a gleeful grin as she wraps her arm around Luke’s waist and ushers him inside.

  That’s it. I will never forgive my mother. Ever. I will live out the rest of my days developing a suitable revenge plot.

  So, that was a disaster. Fan-freaking-tastic.

  I refuse to subject myself to more torture, so I tromp up the stairs and sink into one of the plush chairs perched on the landing at the top of the main staircase. Unfortunately, I can still see the pair of them chatting casually in the ballroom, ignoring all of the caterers and cater-waiters who are buzzing back and forth. He must be enthralling her with some ingenious tale of his exploits, because she’s alternatively laughing and swatting him on the arm.

  Jack and I never stood a chance. Luke is her favorite child and he’s not even blood.

  “Stella?”

  Speak of the devil himself. I swivel around in the chair, and find Jack, his face a thundercloud. Honestly, I have no idea what’s wrong with him. I lent him my car this morning, and I expected at least a twenty-four hour grace period before he went back to his usual brotherly disdain.

  “What are you wearing?”

  Uh oh. He wasn’t supposed to see the dress until the party started.
I reach quickly to adjust it so that I look somewhat more respectable, but I’m too late. Forget my dad. Jack is a million times worse.

  “Hello, Jack. Ready for the party?” My voice is as saccharine sweet as I can make it.

  “Oh, hell no. Go to your room and change. Right now.”

  He is absolutely furious, and since I can’t take out my anger on Luke or my mother, I can’t resist fanning the flames.

  “What, are you going to make me?”

  “Yes. I am going to make you. I’ll use force, if necessary. No baby sister of mine is going to be wearing that dress to a party where there are infamous lechers running about.” When he glances down at Luke, his frown deepens. “Like my best friend.”

  “Luke and me?” I laugh, but the skeptical expression on Jack’s face tells me that he isn’t buying it. Great. Everyone knows, then, about my stupid crush on him. I try to salvage what’s left of my dignity with a careless shrug and a hastily muttered, “Yeah, right.”

  “Yeah, right, you’re getting a new dress. Come on. I’ll pick something out for you. Get over here right now.” He grabs my arm and pinches it hard before dragging me in the direction of my bedroom. As I twist away, I rear back my leg and kick his shin, using every bit of my nonexistent strength.

  I rub my arm just as he reaches down to grab his leg. Our “ows” come out in perfect unison, and I almost smile, but Jack doesn’t seem to find this nearly as funny as I do.

  Jack, the prodigal son, returns, and starts telling me what to do? I don’t think so. I cross my arms in front of my chest and glare at him until my eyes start to water. He breaks first, and the minor victory fills me with a ridiculous sense of pride. Staring competitions have always the only game I can beat him at.

  “Stella, you have exactly three minutes to get out of that dress and into something appropriate for my kid sister to wear.”

  “I am not a kid.”

  “I do not care what you think you are.” His green eyes, the exact same shade as my own, flash with anger. “You will change or I will lock you in your room. You’re more than welcome to choose. The dress or the party.”

  I’m about to scream for Mom to run interference, since she definitely owes me, but a far better idea smacks me in the face. I give him my most innocent of smiles.

  “Fine. You win, Jack. You always win. I will go to my room, and I will put on another dress, and you won’t have to worry about any infamous lechers.”

  Clearly, I take the opportunity to emphasize the fact that the best room in the house, the one that looks out over the pool, now belongs to me. I stole it from Jack when he went off to Berkeley, and I still don’t think he’s ever gotten over it.

  “Hey,” he calls out.

  I melt instantly when I see his easy grin, the one he reserves for special occasions. It’s impossible not to turn into a giant pile of goop. I can hate Jack and bicker with him all I want to, but I’m only ever able to stay angry for approximately two seconds.

  Besides, I’ll get my revenge once he sees the red dress, the one Mom actually did say no to. He’s the one who asked me to change.

  “Love you, Stella bella.”

  “Love you, too, Jacky poo.”

  He grimaces and flips his middle finger at me. I smile victoriously and shut the door to my room behind me.

  The red dress is sitting untouched in my closet. My mother threw a fit when she saw it and I promised her that I would take it back to the store, but I just couldn’t bring myself to actually follow through. It’s just too beautiful.

  Nevertheless, it takes me at least forty-five minutes to gather the nerve to wear it out of my bedroom. The black dress is a nun’s habit compared to the ostentatious Valentino creation that’s three inches shorter than anything I’ve ever worn in my life. I console myself with the fact that this dress will piss Jack off to no end, and that’s worth any amount of self-torture.

  However, I do pause at the top of the staircase once I see the sheer number of people that will soon have a great view of my not-perfectly-toned thighs. Half of San Francisco seems to have descended on my house. Supposedly, all of these people are here to raise money for one of my dad’s charities, a program that gives instruments to inner-city schools.

  I’ve been to dozens of these things over the years, but I still have no earthly idea how getting dressed up and attending a fancy party where people congratulate themselves on exactly how rich they are can be considered charity. I’ll worry about that tomorrow. Or not. I’m not one to look the gift horse of an open bar in the mouth.

  I glance around the room and breathe a sigh of relief when I can’t find either of my parents. They’re probably holed up in my mother’s office, being adorably nerdy and watching a Battlestar Galactica marathon. Their initial appearances, even at the parties they host, last only a few minutes. Unsurprisingly, no one ever seems to notice.

  I smile at a couple of my father’s business associates and their wives and weave through the throngs of people. I’m hunting for a waiter when a slimy hand touches my shoulder.

  “Care to dance?”

  I glance into a blandly handsome, and somewhat familiar, face. I think his name is Richard, or Robin, or Richmond. Something vaguely pretentious. I do not care to dance and am about to tell him that, but then I catch a glimpse of Jack and Luke laughing hysterically with a growing group of fawning female companions. Since I am determined to ignore them, I smile up at my new dancing partner.

  “I would love nothing more.”

  I try to coerce my voice into a seductive purr. I feel ridiculous, and I probably sound like I have a cold, but Ray or Richard or Robin or Richmond doesn’t seem to mind. To my surprise, he actually ends up being a halfway decent dancer. I step on his toes when I see one of the girls sliding her hand up and down Luke’s back, but that’s our only misstep. As the music winds down, he whispers something into my ear about getting some air or another dance, but I slip away unharmed. I guzzle a quick glass of champagne before another partner (owning another vaguely familiar face, accompanied by stinky breath and graying temples) claims me for a dance.

  There are endless rounds of spinning until I’m breathless and giddy from the music, champagne, and male attention. I should thank Jack, really. The red is doing wonders for me.

  Luke’s voice, carrying a dangerous undercurrent, snaps me out of my reverie.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  It was only a matter of time before one of them starting harping on me. I’ve been expecting it and I refuse to give Luke the satisfaction of a response. I glance over at Richmond/Raymond, who’s come back for Round 2, and beckon him with a crook of my finger.

  “I asked you a question,” Luke growls, shooting a murderous look in the direction of whatever his name is.

  He’s just cut off my only means of escape, and I need to get away. Before I say or do something incredibly stupid.

  I cross my arms in front of my chest. “If you hadn’t chased my partner away, I would be dancing. Instead, I’m going to get myself a drink. In case you were wondering, you’re not invited.”

  Luke spins me into his body. Of course. He’s never needed an invitation to take what he wants. Our eyes meet, and in the depths of the icy blue, I see fire. I can recognize one of his infamous explosions from a mile away, and he’s about to blow. I don’t want to be within a mile of him when it happens.

  “Let go of me,” I hiss.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” he says harshly. “The dancing portion of tonight’s entertainment is over.”

  He maneuvers me through the teeming crowd, his fingers curling into the palm of my hand. He’s lost his tuxedo jacket somewhere, and I watch his taut muscles ripple beneath the white shirt. Weak. I am weak. Pitiful.

  Once we reach our destination, Luke abruptly releases my hand and strides to the darkest corner of the back patio.

  We’re entirely alone, despite the fact that an ambitious party planner went all out and blanketed the pool area with floatin
g candles that have transformed the space into a fairy tale wonderland. Glowing white lights dapple the surface of the water, and I take in a long, slow breath. It would be a perfectly romantic moment, if I didn’t smell the anger seeping from Luke’s pores.

  I give the door to the kitchen a hopeful glance and inch backwards, step by step, until escape is within my grasp.

  “Don’t even think about going back in there. Not until I talk to you,” he growls into the darkness. “Your behavior is totally unacceptable, Stella.”

  I wish he wouldn’t say my name. I try to laugh, but the rumble dies in my chest. “I was just dancing. You didn’t need to drag me off to the inquisition. Jerk.”

  “Just dancing?” He’s incredulous.

  I need liquid courage, so I raise the glass of champagne and tilt it backwards. Before I can get a sip, Luke crosses the patio and wrenches the glass from my hand.

  “Hey! What are you doing?”

  His lips spread slowly into a wicked grin as he turns the glass upside down. The liquid splashes against the stones, and a droplet hits my dress, spreading a stain across the delicate fabric.

  “You took my drink and ruined my dress.” My voice is flat. “Any other humiliations planned for tonight?”

  “You’ve already had enough champagne for one evening. You’re making a goddamn spectacle of yourself, Stella. You must have danced with half of the men at that party, all of whom are much too old, and much too married, for you. You shouldn’t have been…”

  I can’t listen to this anymore. I cut him off. “I suppose you and Jack have never had a glass of champagne at one of these things. Or danced with any women who are much too married for you.” I smirk at him, knowing full well that dancing with married women doesn’t even scratch the surface of their salacious behavior.

  “Not at your age.”

  “No, you were much younger. But tell me, Luke. Where exactly have I been led astray?” I clasp my hands together. “Help me to get back on the path to righteousness by presenting me with a list of my sins.”