Shane sat in the chair, his feet propped on the desk, tossing a mini basketball in the air over and over again. “What’s the projected budget?” he asked, and Cecilia realized he was on a conference call.
The phone was in the middle of the desk and his laptop was open, right next to it.
Someone on the line rattled off a number in the millions.
Shane nodded and tossed the ball in the air again. “And phase one? What’s the completion date?”
Cecilia should move. Walk away. But she couldn’t, she just stood there frozen.
There were noises over the line as people scrambled to get him what he wanted. A woman’s voice answered, “End of first quarter.”
Shane’s eyes narrowed as though in contemplation then peered at his computer screen. He tapped away on the keyboard. Frowned, his forehead creasing. “That’s not going to work. You’re going to need to rework the budget. Labor alone is going to eat up sixty percent of those numbers. Let’s be realistic here.”
He rubbed his eyes and glanced over the screen, his gaze catching Cecilia’s.
His lips slowly curved into a wicked smile.
Oh. My. God. He knows.
Cursing, she rang Gracie’s doorbell. What had she been thinking, running like that? How could she convince him how unaffected she was if she acted like a prepubescent schoolgirl? She took a deep, cleansing breath. Okay, there was nothing she could do about it now. She’d do better next time.
She was a professional who sold composure for a living. Shane Donovan would not best her.
The door opened but instead of Gracie, a blond-haired, blue-eyed, gorgeous man stood there.
He gave her a slow, lazy smile. “Cecilia, you’ve finally come home.”
She blinked. Wow. Little Sam Roberts? Like his sister, he’d turned into a stunner with high cheekbones and a long lanky frame, completely at odds with Gracie’s lushness. He wore a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt that said make yourself useful and get me a beer, which made Cecilia smile. “Sam, it’s been a long time.”
He waved an arm, gesturing her into the entryway. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
She frowned. “You have?”
“Yes,” he said. “Maddie’s happy to have you here. She’s looking forward to getting to know you better.”
“Oh,” she said stupidly, not knowing what else to say. “How have you been all these years?”
“Good, how about yourself?” Sam led them down a hallway almost identical to next door. “Still working for your dad?”
“Yes, I am.” For now. The thought made her think of her campaign. Maybe she needed to skip shopping and buckle down. It was the smart thing to do. What she’d always done. Immerse herself in work and forget everything else. Including Shane.
If she got to work, he’d stop distracting her and she’d stop with all these wayward emotions that were getting in the way of her end goal.
She huffed out a breath.
After breakfast she’d explain to Maddie that she couldn’t go to the outlet mall, and head straight to her room.
“And how’s he doing?” Sam asked, breaking her from her tumbling thoughts.
“Fine, thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I was sorry to hear about your mom. She was a lovely woman.”
About ten years ago their mom had been stricken with breast cancer and died shortly after. She’d been a single mother, and losing their only parent had to be a blow.
Sam looked back at her, his gaze somehow intent and knowing. “Thanks, we miss her.”
They walked into the kitchen. A bright, airy place with white cabinets, buttercup-yellow walls, and an industrial-size stove. Gracie stood at her counter, standing over a commercial-grade mixer and frowning. She looked up, her downturned lips easing into a smile. “Hey, Ce-ce. How’d you sleep?”
Awesome, now that she thought about it. In fact, she was better rested than she’d been in the last year. Not all that surprising considering she’d taken a four-hour nap, had multiple orgasms, and slept later than she had since college. “Great, thank you.” She held out the pitcher. “Maddie wanted some syrup.”
Sam glanced at the clock. “I need to get to the bar and get some paperwork done.”
Cecilia nodded. “I forgot you work with Mitch.”
Sam shrugged. “He doesn’t work there anymore.”
That’s right. After a scandal had derailed Mitch’s career in Chicago he hadn’t practiced for years, but had recently returned to work as a lawyer in the county prosecutor’s office.
Cecilia frowned. “I guess I’d forgotten that too.”
Suddenly, it felt wrong to be so disconnected from her family. Another thing she could blame on the Donovans. If they weren’t so close, she wouldn’t notice.
“You girls have yourselves a good day.” Sam turned to leave, pausing with his hand on the back door and turning back. “Don’t work too hard.”
Cecilia frowned, somehow getting the impression that his words had been meant for her. Which was silly. She handed the pitcher to Gracie.
Gracie wiped her hands on her apron and went to the fridge. “I made it this morning, she just needs to heat it up.” She grabbed the glass container and filled it to the brim before handing it back.
The smell wafted up and filled her senses. So heavenly her head swam and her mouth watered. “This smells divine.”
Gracie beamed at her. “Oh good. After yesterday and with you being so thin, I thought you might be one of those women who doesn’t eat.”
Cecilia placed a hand on her stomach, practically concave now, making her realize she hadn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours. “I eat. Things have been a bit hectic lately and sometimes I forget.”
Gracie put her hands on her hips, her lip curled in scorn as she shook her head. “I’m so jealous of women like you.”
“Of me?” she said, shocked. How could Gracie be jealous of her? “I can assure you there’s nothing to be jealous of.”
Gracie laughed. “There could be a bomb going off and I’d never forget to eat. As you can tell by the unfortunate size of my hips.”
There wasn’t one unfortunate thing about Gracie’s body.
“We should all be so unlucky,” Cecilia said in a wry tone before tilting her head in the direction of her brother’s house. “You should come for breakfast.”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got a million things to do, orders to fill, deliveries to make.” She grinned. “And let’s not forget our fitting at two.”
Cecilia laughed, really laughed, and her heart lightened considerably. She glanced at the mixing bowl and an impulse took hold of her. This was work. A couple more hours of avoidance wouldn’t hurt. “Do you want some help?”
Gracie’s blue eyes widened as though surprised. “Are you serious? Don’t you have a bunch of more important things to do?”
She thought of her laptop sitting in its leather case. The phone messages she hadn’t checked and e-mails she hadn’t returned. “Nope.”
“Don’t you want to relax?”
She shook her head, not understanding what had come over her, but knowing it was true. “No, I want to bake.”
Chapter Seven
After finishing his conference call, Shane walked into the kitchen, his stomach rumbling from the smell of his sister’s pancakes cooking on the griddle. The whole lot of them were already at the table.
Including Cecilia. She must have snuck in through the back door, because he’d watched the front like a hawk. She gave him a prim smile before taking a dainty bite of pancake. Well, wasn’t she back in control? And wouldn’t he have to do something about that.
“Morning,” he said, moving to the counter to refill his coffee.
There were two spots open to him—one across from Cecilia and one next to her. He decided on across. There were too many people to do anything interesting sitting next to her, and he wanted to see her face.
He sat down and grabbed a big pile of pancakes. “How’d everyone
sleep last night?”
There was a murmur of goods.
He locked in on Cecilia. “And how about you?”
Those eyes of hers flashed with hints of gray. “Like a baby.”
“Really now?” Shane leaned back in his chair and rubbed his jaw. “I’d have thought you’d have trouble, being in a strange place and all.”
“But this isn’t a strange place,” she said, her voice oh-so-light and unaffected. He’d have bought it too, if she didn’t have a death grip on her fork. “I’ve been sleeping in that room since I was six. Right, Mitch?”
Mitch put his elbows on the table, peering at his sister like she might sprout another head, before nodding slowly. “Right.”
“See,” she said, waving her hand. “I’m more at home than you are.”
Shane grinned. Well, good for her, diverting attention. He stretched out his legs under the table, and when he hit her foot she jerked back. Of course, she displayed no signs of this to the outside world. “But still, something must have happened to make you sleep so soundly.”
A faint flush rose to her cheeks and her shoulders squared. “Just fresh air, I’m sure.”
Liar.
James started to chuckle. When she scowled, the chuckle faded into a crooked grin. He picked up his orange juice and toasted her. “I know fresh air always helps me sleep too.”
Shane laughed, and Cecilia shot him one of those you’rea-dead-man glares that never failed to turn him on.
Maddie looked back and forth between James, Shane, and Cecilia. “What’s going on?”
Cecilia straightened and fiddled with her napkin on her lap. “Nothing. Where’s Mom?”
“Upstairs,” Mitch said, his voice curious. “Yeah, what is going on?”
James shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Maddie and Mitch turned to Shane. He shrugged. “I asked the woman how she slept. I was being polite.”
“Ha!” Cecilia said, then frowned as though surprised she’d spoken.
When Mitch and Maddie turned their attention on her, she twisted a thin gold chain around her neck. “Sorry, I . . .” She glanced around the table. “I swallowed a bite of pancake wrong.”
Mitch’s expression was pure speculation as he stabbed a pancake covered in syrup with his fork. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Cecilia said, giving him that direct, level-eyed stare of hers. “What else could it be?”
He chewed slowly then swallowed. “I don’t know—but it’s something.”
Cecilia smiled, bright and cheerful. “Everything is wonderful.” Then she turned to Maddie. “I can’t believe what you’ve done to this place. It’s gorgeous.”
Maddie tilted her head to the side, her green eyes still filled with curiosity. “Thank you.”
“You did a great job updating while still maintaining the architecture and charm of the original house.”
Yep, complete diversion.
Shane ate and watched as she asked Maddie various questions about the renovations and pretty much pretended he didn’t exist.
James stood and grabbed his plate and cup. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Shane asked, “Off for another run?”
“In a bit,” James said, walking over to the sink. “You can come, but I’m doing twelve miles again.”
“You’re a sick, sick man,” Shane said.
Hands now free, James pointed at their sister. “Maybe you should stick with Maddie. She’s more your speed.”
“Asshole,” Shane called after him as he left the room without a backward glance, before turning back to the table. He shook his head at his sister. “He’s like a fucking machine.”
Maddie nodded, her brow creasing. “I know, it’s not healthy.”
Shane pondered his brother’s iron control. As a child he’d been nothing like that. It wasn’t until their father died that he’d changed. “Was I that hard on him growing up?”
The question clearly caught Cecilia’s attention because he could practically see her ears perk up as she leaned forward.
Maddie tapped her fingers on the table and let out a big, exasperated sigh. “No, you were great. Would you stop that?”
“Stop what?”
“Stop worrying that you messed us all up,” Maddie said, her voice quiet, the corners of her mouth pinched. Mitch slipped a hand under her hair and rubbed her neck as though sensing her distress, making Shane wonder if they’d discussed the topic before.
He stiffened and glanced at Cecilia, who didn’t try to pretend she wasn’t listening. He changed the subject.
“What’s on the agenda, baby sister?” He held up his hands. “Besides the fitting.”
Maddie studied him for too long before she finally said, “Charlotte, Cecilia, and I are going shopping.”
“On that note.” Mitch got up and stroked a hand over Maddie’s flame-red hair. “I’ve got to get to the office.”
Maddie smiled that big, gooey smile at him. “What time will you be home?”
He tucked a stray lock around her ear. “By six.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her lips. “Have fun at your fitting, princess, and try not to drive everyone crazy.”
Maddie laughed and curled her hand around his neck to pull him close again. “What fun would that be?”
He kissed her again, just a peck, nothing at all inappropriate, but the look they exchanged was so deeply intimate Shane had to glance away.
Cecilia stared down at her plate of half-eaten pancakes, her shoulders stiff.
“Don’t spend too much money,” Mitch said, and left.
“Don’t hold your breath,” Maddie called after him. She turned back to the table and said to Cecilia, “We’re going to leave in about thirty minutes. Does that work for you?”
Cecilia shifted in her chair, then smoothed down her sleek ponytail. “Oh, about that. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t go.”
His sister’s face fell. “Sure, no problem.”
Cecilia shook her head. “No wait, it’s not that I don’t want to, I do. But I went over to Gracie’s and she sounded so swamped.” Her perfect mouth curved into a frown. “And, well, I offered to help.”
An interesting turn of events Shane hadn’t expected.
Maddie’s eyes widened, apparently as surprised as he was. “How sweet. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”
Cecilia tilted her head, her blue-gray eyes still clouded. “Can I take a rain check on shopping? Because I would like to go.”
Maddie patted her hand. “Of course, I’d like that.”
Cecilia’s tight expression eased. “Me too.”
Shane saw an opportunity and took it. “It’s settled then.”
“What is?” Maddie asked.
“Since you cooked, it’s only fair Cecilia and I do the dishes. That way you can go get ready.”
Cecilia blinked, opened her mouth then shut it again.
Maddie threw down her napkin and bounded from the chair. “I never turn down a chance to get out of cleaning.”
Cecilia’s hand clenched on her butter knife, and Shane wondered if she contemplated throwing it.
All innocence, he smiled at her. “I’m sure even a rich girl like you can do the dishes.”
That jerk!
Cecilia gritted her teeth as Maddie left the kitchen like she was on fire.
He’d manipulated the situation. He knew perfectly well she couldn’t object without looking like an insolent houseguest. She cataloged all the ways she could maim him with a butter knife—the list longer than she’d have thought.
She glared at him.
He looked so smug.
She threw her napkin down on the table. “You are the most despicable man on the planet.”
He laughed. “I’d never have figured you for a drama queen.”
“I am not. A drama queen,” she hissed, leaning across the table. “You tricked me into being alone with you.”
“Of course I did.�
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She let out a tiny scream. Ugh! She hated this about him. He wasn’t supposed to be forthcoming. It was so irritating. “You don’t even have the audacity to deny it!”
He shrugged one shoulder, highlighted to perfection in a black T-shirt that stretched over his chest and biceps in a way that should be considered illegal. “Nope.”
“Nope?! That’s it?” She sliced a hand through the air. “Just nope?”
“What would you like me to say?” he asked, his attitude so mild and calm she wanted to throttle him. He was enjoying himself way too much.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, rational thought still prevailed, urging her to slow down. With a deep inhale she sat back. He wanted to rattle her. He baited her on purpose. If she didn’t give him what he wanted, he’d stop.
She steeled her spine and smoothed her expression over. “Nothing.” She stood. “We’d better get to work. Gracie is expecting me.”
She grabbed a handful of dishes and carried them over to the sink.
“That reminds me, why are you helping Gracie?” he asked in that amused tone of his.
She forced herself to gently place the plates in the sink instead of throwing them at his head. “That’s none of your business.” Pleased she sounded like her normal, unruffled self.
She studied the faucet. A new stainless steel number with a high arch that looked sleek and expensive. She frowned. There wasn’t a handle.
“So you’re going to play it that way, are you?”
How in the hell did you turn this thing on? “I’m not playing it any way. What I do or don’t do is none of your concern.”
The chair scraped and a second later he was behind her. She could feel the heat of his body. She held her breath as he reached around her, standing way too close. Lungs burning, she sucked in air.
Detached. Cool. All the things she was so good at. She just needed to ignore him until he stopped.
Those long, strong fingers of his brushed over the faucet’s arch and the water went on. “It’s activated by touch, rich girl.”
He didn’t move away.
She closed her eyes against the spike of desire, raw and hot, that burned brighter every time they were in the same room together. She clenched the edge of the sink. “You know, you’re way richer than I am.”
The Winner Takes It All Page 8