Page 31 of Legally Yours
I chuckled. “Not that I know of. She lives outside of Paris, with her fifth husband and their two kids.”
It was hard to talk about her new family without that familiar ache in my chest. For so long it had seemed like she just wasn’t the family type, that my dad and I had nothing to do with her issues with commitment and devil-may-care approach to relationships. But she had been with Maurice Jadot for almost a decade.
“Do you talk to her much now?”
Why was he so interested in my relationship with Janette? “Like I said, no,” I said, maybe a little too sharply. “My dad and Bubbe are all I need.”
I was being defensive. Years of unwelcome pity for the little girl without a mommy did that to a person. People started to look for the things that were wrong with me when they found out. They searched for my scars. But there was no pity in Brandon’s eyes, only acknowledgment.
“Of course,” he said kindly. “But then again, you don’t seem that hard to love. That’s why…I suppose that’s the real reason I made such an ass of myself.”
I gulped, my heart stopping in my chest. “Because youloveme?” This guy was even crazier than I’d thought.
“No. No! Jesus, here I go again, right?” He pulled our hands from his pocket and shook mine back and forth. “Skylar,no. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” I asked, ignoring the drop in my chest at the word “no.” What was going on with me?
“I just meant…” Brandon stared up at the sky, covered in its usual halo from the streetlights and buildings. He grabbed my other hand and pulled me to face him. “I just meant that you’re special, all right? That much has been clear, since the second I saw you. And it makes me…I didn’t know how to react to it. What do you do when just the sight of someone leaves you awestruck?”
His words made my breath catch in my throat, and I was relieved when I found we were standing outside the familiar drooping eaves of the house that would always be home.
I pulled my hands reluctantly from his grasp and gestured toward the house beyond the weather-worn, chain-linked fence. “Here’s the castle.ChezCrosby, if you will.”
The two-story Victorian wasn’t anything impressive. The dark-brown paint hadn’t been resealed in my lifetime, causing it to flake in several spots. The front door had swollen after some flooding last spring, so it stuck when opened and closed unless you pushed with your whole body. The small lawn, currently covered with snow, was bound by a chain-link fence and a faded black mailbox perched crookedly at the gate.
Brandon surveyed the property openly. “It’s nice.”
I shrugged. “It’s no mansion on the Common, but it’s home.”
“It looks more like a home than any mansion,” Brandon said with a small smile, and maybe even a trace of envy? Then his gaze shifted to me, and we both seemed to stop breathing for several seconds.
“I don’t know what it is about you, Red,” he said, his voice cutting roughly through the night air. “Maybe it’s your seriousness. Maybe it’s your hair. Maybe it’s the way you sing, or maybe it’s the way you don’t take any of my shit. But when I’m around you…it’s like there’s no more Brandon Sterling, CEO anymore. There’s just me. And there’s just you. Am I wrong?”
I opened my mouth and closed it again. He wasn’t wrong, but I couldn’t quite find the words to say it.
“I think there’s something here,” he continued gruffly. “Something that I…that I think I have to make time for.” He paused. “Am I crazy? You have to tell me.”
“Maybe a little,” I said, no joke in my voice.
His eyes searched mine as he moved one step closer. “But…you feel it too?”
There was no use pretending I didn’t. I didn’t understand the attraction, didn’t know why this man had followed me all the way to New York just to make sure I got home safe. I didn’t understand why my tongue felt about two sizes too big for my mouth when I looked at him or why I didn’t want it to stop either.
Somehow, in just the space of a few hours, a few layers had been shed, and it was clear to me that the idiot in his office, the smartass on the street, they weren’t the real Brandon Sterling. The guy who cared enough to escort me home, who listened raptly when I talked about myself, who spoke vehemently in my defense, and who offered his home to a stranger on a cold, snowy night—that was the real Brandon Sterling. He was kind, slightly awkward, and intensely generous. And he was someone I wanted—no,neededto know.
“Yes,” I whispered, unable to summon my normal voice. “I feel it.”
He removed his gloves from his hands and put them in his pocket. Then he placed his palms gently on my cheeks, framing my face.
“So, it is real,” he murmured as he brushed his thumbs over my cheekbones. “Skylar, do you mind if I kiss you right now?”
I shook my head wordlessly. There was nothing to say as he touched his lips briefly to mine. He looked at me as if uncertain whether or not I would allow him to continue. In response, I wrapped my arms around his taut waist and tugged him to me.
He wanted to be gentle, but it only took a few seconds for his hands to cup my head securely at the neck and pull me deeper, teasing my mouth open so that he could twist our tongues together. This kiss didn’t have the same fury as the one in his office, but it was more potent. I relished the slow, tentative strokes of his tongue. I gripped his jacket, wanting more.
When Brandon finally released me with a nip on my upper lip, we both gasped, our breath dancing around us in disappearing clouds.
He grinned. “So. Dinner next Friday?”