He poured her a bit, then poured some in his own glass. “A toast.”
She didn’t lift her glass, but did place a wooden coaster underneath it. Just in case. “Avery, wait. You may not want to toast after what I’ve got to say.”
He cocked his head, his eyes curious and empathetic. The perfect doctor. “Yes? Please, say what’s on your mind.”
She folded her hands in her lap, the single frayed fingernail carefully hidden away. “Avery, I know you think you care for me, but I don’t think you really do….”
“Is this why you’re taking up with Joe, to make me jealous?”
“No, Avery. That’s not why.”
“Amanda, you’ve always been there on the fringes of my life. Ready to defend me when others wouldn’t dare. I’ve always believed you cared for me.”
“And I do. But as a friend. Is that what you want? You deserve much more.”
He took her hand, the one with the bad fingernail. “Having you, even just in friendship, makes me happier than being with any other woman who sees me as nothing more than a bank account.”
She stared into his warm blue eyes and wished she were the woman for him. He deserved someone good, nice, the perfect wife. Someone who could love him for every pompous, stuffy inch of him. “I wouldn’t be happy with friendship and you know, deep down, you wouldn’t either.”
“I don’t know, Amanda. You’re a wonderful woman, I think we’re well-suited.”
“You think you know who I am, but you would be miserable with me.”
“Why do you say that?”
She removed her hand. Took a much needed sip of wine. “I’m cold and heartless. I’m not pleasant when I don’t get my way.”
“Well, all women have their days.”
Her hand tightened around the stem of the glass. His lady-killer skills were lacking. Sadly lacking. “That’s a very sexist remark.”
“My apologies, of course.”
“Avery, we’re not meant for each other. I want to feel alive, I want to make a difference. I don’t feel that way when I’m with you.”
“And you do with Joe?”
She nodded. It was the truth.
“Why?” he asked.
More doctor questions. Good grief. “You’re not making this easy.”
“To put it quite succinctly, I think you’re trying to dump me, so I don’t have an obligation to make things easy.”
“I’m not trying to dump you. That would imply that something existed between us that never actually did. And never will. You’re a dear, dear, man—”
Avery cut her off at the pass. “You take your time, Amanda. We’re alike, you and me. Certainly more than you and Joe. You’re sophisticated, intelligent, ambitious.”
Amanda removed her hand. “And you don’t think Joe is?”
“My brother always did things his own way. He’s certainly not sophisticated, his intelligence, or lack of it, is the reason he didn’t go to school with you and me, and ambitious? What do you think, Amanda?”
“I don’t understand how you two can be brothers and be so completely opposite. You lack some of Joe’s better qualities, Avery.”
Avery shrugged, just like Joe. “All these years, Amanda, why did you stay my friend? I’d always assumed you had feelings for me. Were those feelings of sympathy?”
He looked at her, completely clueless. That was Avery. “No. I just saw things inside you that the other kids didn’t. I saw your potential.”
“Potential?” His laugh wasn’t pretty. “I was a project to you then? Science fair? Make the mouse into a man? You want to change the whole world, don’t you? Is Joe next on your list?”
That brought her to her feet. “You will not twist this around to suit you. Avery, what is between us is friendship, nothing more. It never will be.”
Silence overwhelmed the room, and for the first time, Avery Barrington, III looked beaten. “And that’s it, isn’t it?”
She cleared her throat. “Let me find someone for you, Avery. I have some friends who would love to meet you.”
His mouth twitched with amusement. “A date? You want to play matchmaker?”
“Yes. A novel concept. Fairly underutilized by the male sex, but quite effective. Would you let me?”
He struggled for words for a moment, adjusting his tie, taking a sip of wine. “What sort of woman do you envision for me?”
“Someone who would set the perfect table, have her hair perfectly coiffed, would have a warm cup of tea waiting for you when you get home.”
His smile seemed quite genuine. “It does sound quite appealing.” But then he frowned. “You would go with us, though?”
One step at a time, Amanda. One small step at a time. “With Joe, of course.” Again, the muffled cough from the bedroom.
Avery turned his head. “What is that noise?”
“The television.”
“Amanda, Amanda, Amanda…” Avery heaved an elaborate sigh. “He’s here, isn’t he? My rival, my blood, my brother.” Avery stood up. “Joe! You letch, show yourself!”
Joe appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, looking quite at home. Amanda was pleased. “Does anybody say ‘letch’ besides you?”
“There’s other terms, but I’m in the presence of a lady.”
Joe heaved an elaborate sigh, sounding just like his brother. Amanda studied him carefully, trying to decide if he was mocking Avery. But no, he didn’t even seem to know he did it.
She watched the undercurrents between the two men, not sure what to do. “Joe, would you like some wine?”
He smiled at her. A nice smile. A supportive smile. She really liked that smile. “Nah. I’ll just get a beer.” He strolled into the kitchen, again looking quite at home. Avery frowned.
Did she have beer in the refrigerator? Amanda thought for a moment, not sure that she did. But then Joe came from the kitchen, with a beer bottle in his hand. Well, she must have bought some. Joe sat down on the arm of her chair. Casual, possessive, and enough to cause a hot shiver to run down Amanda’s back. Was he changing towards her?
Joe tilted his bottle at his brother. “Avery, back off.”
Well, she certainly hadn’t expected that, but his defense was nice. Avery’s well-sculpted eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “Are you threatening me?”
Joe spoke with the lifelong weariness of a younger brother. “No, I’m not threatening you. I’m trying to help you.”
“What can you do to help me?” Avery asked with all the superiority of an older brother.
Amanda leapt to Joe’s defense. “Avery, be nice.”
Joe gave her a nice little hug for her effort. “You need to meet other women, Avery. Get out, do things. Live a little.”
“Like you do, you mean.”
“Exactly.”
Avery huffed. “I would never—”
“Joe’s right,” Amanda interrupted.
Avery looked at her as if she had suddenly turned into an Unidentified Female Object. “Do you really think so?”
Avery looked so earnest that Amanda felt a pang of sympathy. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Joe leaned forward, putting the cool bottle against Amanda’s neck, a gesture that his brother noticed. She felt the cold sweat trickle down her neck and she crossed her legs tighter, squirming in her seat. Another gesture that Avery noticed. He cleared his throat. “What should I do?”
“I’ve got a friend. I’ll fix you up. Two weeks from Friday. That should be enough time. We can do dinner.”
Avery pulled out his Palm Pilot. “Oh, no can do. Have dinner with the parents Friday evening at The Four Seasons.”
Joe swore under his breath, which Amanda ignored, majorly curious at the thought of seeing Joe with his parents. How had he and Avery turned out so absolutely opposite? From what she remembered of the Barringtons, they were just like Avery. Joe had always been the rebel.
“Perfect! We’ll all go! Avery, I’ll call Penelope.” She batted her eye
lashes at Avery, a blatant misuse of her feminine wiles. Necessary when engaged in battle. “Let’s!”
Avery shared Joe’s look of discomfort, but at least he nodded his head. “All right. I trust your taste in all things—” he glanced at Joe “—almost all things, so I’ll leave myself in your capable hands. A lump of clay to be molded, so to speak…”
“Good night, Avery,” Joe said, standing.
“But I’ve only just arrived,” Avery began.
Joe slipped an arm around Amanda. She leaned back against him, felt a warm kiss against her neck. Her blood heated and her lashes drifted shut.
She melted into her own little pool of nirvana and heard brisk footsteps on the cold marble floor and the sound of the door shutting decisively.
Heaven.
For one long moment, Joe stood behind her, she felt his heart beat against her back, felt the strong muscles in his chest, felt the all-too-real proof of his desire pressing against her thigh.
This was the moment she had waited for.
She turned in his arms, gazed up at his face, and prayed for his kiss. The blue depths of his gaze heated, then burned. Burned for her.
And then, at last, he blinked. He pulled away from her, his look turned cool, impartial.
Damn. She rubbed her arms, feeling a chill in the room for the first time. She looked around the empty apartment, so lifeless, full of white and empty spaces.
Then she stared at Joe. Black jeans, black boots, dark hair. No color at all, yet the apartment seemed full of his light, full of him.
He backed away farther. “Well, I suppose I should go now.”
“You don’t have to—” Amanda started.
“I owe you an apology,” he interrupted.
“For what?”
He shrugged sheepishly. “You tried.”
On the other hand, her grin was quite triumphant. “You noticed that, hmm?”
“I should have believed you.”
“Yes.”
“Next time I will.”
“Good.” She pressed her luck. She wanted him in her apartment, in her life. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why? Are you dieting?”
He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Do you think I should?”
She studied the fitted shirt that clung to the broad shoulders, highlighting his hard stomach and smooth muscles. No jury would ever convict her if she jumped him right now. She closed her eyes and exhaled. Sanity returned. “You don’t need any more compliments, bucko. Your head’s already too big.”
“But they’d mean more coming from you—” he wheedled. Abruptly he turned away. “I should go.”
“I’ve got fresh pasta, homemade sauce. I can have garlic bread in less than thirty minutes.”
That got his attention. He took one step closer. “You really cook?”
“I told you, I’m full of surprises.” She picked up the glasses from the coffee table. Adjusted the magazines until the corners were perfectly even. “Stay, Joe.”
She met his gaze full on. Her desire was there, unhidden for him to see.
This time, he didn’t blink. “All right, I will.”
JOE SAT ACROSS from Amanda at the table, eating absolutely some of the best spaghetti he’d ever had. “You’re great at this.”
“It’s my father’s recipe.”
He stopped, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Your father cooks?”
“Don’t all men?”
Dangerous territory. He stuffed his mouth full and nodded, murmuring sounds of assent. He’d never thought about cooking before. Hmmm.
She laughed at him. There wasn’t anything mean or vindictive in her laughter, only something warm and…nice.
Maybe he should start cooking. Damn, she was starting to get to him. Maybe Avery had been onto something when he’d fallen for Amanda. Nah. He shook his head, refusing to admit Avery was right about anything.
“What’s your favorite thing to eat?” she asked, an innocent question.
He swallowed another mouthful of ambrosia. She had raised cooking to an art form. “Beef Wellington.”
Her smile could have been an art form as well. Mysterious, amused, a Mona Lisa look.
“You have your brother’s taste in food.”
“It’s a Barrington thing.” He shrugged it off, not wanting to think about similarities between he and Avery. As far as Joe was concerned, there weren’t any. “What do you like?”
“Breakfast. Eggs Benedict. Waffles, French Toast.” She closed her eyes and inhaled. “And hot fresh-brewed coffee.”
Eggs Benedict? He could do that, couldn’t he? He took in her exquisite look of pleasure and knew that he’d move heaven and earth in order to be the cause of that hedonistic expression.
For a moment the thought stunned him. Amanda and hedonistic didn’t belong in the same sentence. Yet, there she sat, looking like some Greek goddess ready to go splashing around nude in the water. His body responded instantly. Ka-pow. He adjusted the napkin on his lap. Just in case.
“You want to be a pilot.” A long strand of pasta dangled from her fork and she took it in her mouth, sucking it in like a kid. A dangerous combination of innocence and sexy cunning. Her eyes were wide and guileless, but her words were what mattered. Forget hedonistic, she was just trying to turn him into something he wasn’t. Sophisticated, intelligent, ambitious. He’d heard what Avery had said, and Joe wasn’t playing that game.
“Yes.” He studied the wine in his glass. “This is pretty good. What it is?”
“Avery brought it. I don’t remember.” She dabbed at her lips with the linen napkin. “Why?”
“Just curious.”
“No, why do you want to be a pilot?”
She wasn’t going to let him off easy. He gazed at the dazzling skyline outside the window. All those lights. All those dreams. And noise—the constant heartbeat that powered the city. Even at night it was there.
What about his dreams? He turned back to Amanda, and suddenly dreams and reality got all muddled. “It’s the ultimate. Man conquering the heavens. Steering a one hundred ton machine through the belly of the gods.” He laughed, embarrassed.
Amanda didn’t laugh, she looked serious. “You should do it, then.”
Ambition. Uncomfortable with that thought, he rolled his shoulder. “Yeah, well, then there’s reality, Amanda. Sometimes the price is too high. Not all of us were meant to be fabulously successful.”
“No one’s meant to do anything. Your life is your own. No one makes it or breaks it for you.”
“Yeah, I read that on a fortune cookie once.”
An awkward silence filled the room. He’d ticked her off. And maybe part of him did it on purpose. A ticked-off Amanda he could handle.
He watched as she carefully put her napkin down on the table, and then walked across the room. When she stopped in front of the stereo she bent slightly and adjusted the volume.
Every time she moved, he knew. Every time she breathed, he noticed. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.
“I think Vincent’s going to have a case.”
Joe shook his head. “Excuse me?”
“I looked through the Times’ archives. The cleaning solvent manufacturer settled a case out of court. We filed suit against the company this afternoon.”
And Joe had thought Avery was amazing. “You’ve done all that in two days?”
She thumbed through the stack of CDs next to the stereo. “Really four. There’s Friday, plus the weekend, and then I got in early this morning.”
Just looking at all that energy inside her made him tired. “How early?”
“Doesn’t matter. Dessert?” There was an invitation in her eyes, clearly telling him she was willing to share more than a little chocolate. His mouth filled with the memory of her taste. He slowly put his fork down, then placed his napkin on the table.
“Speaking of early, I’v
e got to be up at four.” He stood.
“Some other time,” she murmured.
He closed his eyes, wondering if he should do it. Could he make love to her, discover all the warmth and heat that lay under the cool exterior? He liked thinking of her as icy. That made her untouchable and safe. The thought of her pale blue eyes swimming with fire terrified him.
The next morning, he’d wake up and he’d have to look in the mirror, with Avery’s scent lingering in the air once more.
“You have a screwy sense of honor, Joe.”
For a moment he thought his conscience had developed a voice. She looked small and lonely staring out at the city.
His hands clenched. “Better screwy than none, right?”
Nobody laughed.
“You’ve got this role in your head that you think you have to play, but you’ve outgrown it.”
“No, it’s not a role. I just learned to accept who I am. Somebody’s always gotta take second place.”
“Joe, you’re more than that.”
His heart twisted. Heart twisting was not good. “Look, the affirmations are nice, but really, I like my life. You don’t need to change it for me.”
“You could do more,” she said quietly.
He thought about laughing, but she might take that wrong. No, he couldn’t do more. He’d tried to live up to Avery. That didn’t work. And now there was Amanda. “And that’s the difference between you and me, isn’t it? You’re like a fairy-tale princess who locked herself in some ivory tower far away from the real world. I like my world, though. I don’t want more.”
Amanda whirled around, her gaze fixed on him. She looked like she was ready to cry. Hell. “I’m going to paint my apartment red.”
Where did that come from? He looked at the beige walls, and the subtle prints. “Isn’t that a little extreme?”
“Red, Joe. Screaming red.” Her bottom lip turned up, and she planted her hands on her hips. The pale blue eyes were hot.
He needed to leave. Now. He took a step toward the door. “Red would be good. I need to go.”
She followed him. The sound of her sheer stockings sliding over the marble was an oddly intimate sound that he didn’t want to hear.
But she wasn’t done yet. “You’re using Avery as a shield, Joe.”
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