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“This is the best,” she sighed against Zane’s chest, happily tucked naked between the men on an island of lounge cushions. “I’m going to remember this forever.”
Trey rubbed his cheek on her shoulder. He was behind her with his arm draped across her waist. His hand rested on Zane’s belly, fingers playing with his line of hair. “This doesn’t have to end.”
“I’m going back to work on Monday,” she warned them. “And so are you two tycoons.”
“Right. But we aren’t going to disappear into a puff of smoke. You can see us again.”
“We want you to see us again,” Zane put in.
They sounded truthful. Rebecca wanted to believe them, but she questioned how long the inclination to keep in touch would last. This week had been intense—like erotic summer camp or the final day of high school. Emotions ran high in those situations. People were convinced they’d made friends for life. Then they went back to their normal lives, and the feelings faded. She took comfort in the fact that she’d see Trey at the Lounge now and then—at least until he got sidetracked by his next project.
“This isn’t casual for us,” Trey said as if he could read her thoughts. “We’re not capable of loving and leaving you.”
She wriggled around to face him, chest aching with the knowledge that she’d never known a man this sweet. “Kiss me when you say that,” she teased, hoping to keep tears at bay.
Trey kissed her, and then Zane did, and then the stars had something new to shine down on.
She stole an hour Sunday morning to meet Raoul in Quincy Market. The young driver, Owens, chauffeured her downtown and dropped her at an open-air cafe. She and her head chef had a last few t’s to cross before their official start of business, a task they were sweetening with coffee and biscotti.
Zane had dug up another outfit for her from wherever he was getting them. This one paired black jeans and a wraparound shirt printed with colorful Italian tourist scenes. A couple of the scenes were restaurants, and Rebecca hadn’t been able to resist, despite the neckline baring more cleavage than she was used to. She supposed the style suited her, because Raoul’s eyebrows rose.
“Something agrees with you,” he observed slyly once they were done with their hugs. “Maybe to do with the fancy limo that dropped you off?”
She had to answer. Conceivably, her activities could affect their jobs. “Trey Hayworth and I hooked up,” she confessed, conveying as much of the truth as she thought germane.
To her surprise, Raoul wasn’t horrified. He leaned back in the small cafe chair and smiled. “I thought something like that might happen. I never saw that man look at you like he didn’t want to eat you up.”
“You’re not upset? It is sleeping with the boss. What if—”
“—the sky falls tomorrow?” her associate joked. “Life is a banquet, chica. Believe it or not, there’s more on the buffet than work.”
Speechless, Rebecca could only blink at him, which amused Raoul. “Enjoy yourself,” he said. “Whatever happens, you and I will land on our feet.”
She hadn’t known he thought of them that way. He made them sound unbeatable, like a team nothing in the world could knock down. So much faith was amazing.
“You know I love you, right?” she said impulsively. “I might not say it, but I do.”
Raoul reached across the table to pat her hand. “I know. I only wonder if you’re aware how much everyone loves you.”
~
Zane hadn’t forgotten his intention to talk to Trey’s . . . cousins he supposed they were. He’d obtained the son’s number from Elaine and called him the next day. The area code was in Connecticut, the son businesslike and stiff. Just as capable of being formal, Zane explained that he was Trey’s business partner and would be handling the matter for the time being.
“Your mother trespassed in our offices,” he said, not inclined to mince words. “The last I saw her, our security guards were escorting her back to her hotel. She’s since checked out, and I don’t know her current whereabouts. If it would set your mind at ease, I can ask a private detective to track her down. Naturally, you can hire one yourself, if you prefer.”
Zane’s friend-slash-PI was already working on locating Constance Sharp, but Benjamin Sharp didn’t need to know that. Zane figured the son’s answer would tell him something about what he was dealing with. Somewhat to his surprise, the son said he’d be grateful for whatever Zane’s PI could find out. He hung up soon after, leaving Zane hardly more enlightened than before. He didn’t know what to make of the brother and sister coming to Boston a few days later to speak face to face. Zane’s detective had looked into their backgrounds but discovered no red flags: no arrest records, no money troubles, nothing to indicate this was a scheme. To all appearances, they were simply worried about their mother.
He arranged the meet for Sunday morning in the BBC Imperial Hotel lobby. Neither sibling objected to the discussion being on Zane’s home turf.
He told Trey he had a breakfast appointment he couldn’t reschedule. He wasn’t sure Trey believed him, but since Rebecca was out as well he didn’t do more than sigh.
“It isn’t Monday yet,” Trey reminded him.
This was true, but Zane wasn’t convinced they’d make any more progress toward a committed relationship. Rebecca seemed to care about them. She trusted them when it came to sex. She admitted she was more relaxed than she’d ever been, and Trey and Zane could see they were good for her. Those accomplishments notwithstanding, every time they brought up the future, she became evasive.
Is it me? he wondered as he parked the Mercedes in his slot at the hotel’s garage. Was Rebecca hesitating because he wasn’t a hundred percent at ease with their threesome? Didn’t she realize the distance he’d come? Surely he wasn’t expected to get over all his uptightness in a week. He loved how the three of them were together. He wanted it to continue. That had to be obvious.
He grimaced and took the stairs to the lobby level, hoping to smooth out his nervous energy. Second-guessing himself was counterproductive, as was splitting his focus. For Trey’s sake, he needed to be on his game.
Though not huge, the Imperial’s lobby displayed the same attention to detail and quality as all TBBC’s businesses. The flowers were fresh, the dark marble floors gleaming. The furnishings were upscale but comfortable. Zane strode across a gorgeous antique carpet to the main sitting area. As he did, a man and a woman rose from an upholstered couch.
They appeared to be in their fifties and were well dressed but not showy. Before she was widowed, Constance Sharp had married the founder of a small chain of convenience stores. The son and daughter ran the business now. Their understated self-presentation suggested they wished to be taken for children of older money than they were. In his experience, 7-Eleven owners didn’t go for strings of pearls and expensive beige twin sets.
“Mr. Alexander?” said the son. “I’m Benjamin Sharp, and this is my sister, Antonia. Thank you for seeing us. We’re sorry to shove in on you this way.”
An apology at the get-go was interesting. So was the deference Benjamin Sharp was showing a younger man. Zane nodded at him and his sister.
“I’ve reserved a conference room for us to talk in,” he said. “Why don’t you follow me?”
“Your hotel is very nice,” the sister said nervously behind him.
More deference, he thought. And maybe a hint of fawning. He thanked her and held the door for them.
The conference room was a miniature of the lobby, down to the fresh-cut flowers on the side table. The siblings sat on the sofa he indicated, while he sank into an armchair. He leaned back, and they leaned forward on the seat cushions, their body language that of people hoping to please.
“You must think we’re very forward,” Antonia said, smoothing her skirt over tight-pressed knees. “We wanted to make sure you knew we had no idea Mother planned anything like this.”
“You knew something,” Zane said calmly. “Or you wouldn’t have thought to call Trey Hayworth after your mother disappeared.”
“Oh. Well. That was—” Flustered, Antonia touched her professionally waved short hair. “He’s her latest little fixation. Mother’s always been a bit . . . unpredictable.”
“She’s always been a nut,” her brother put in gruffly. “We’ve got her in one of those retirement communities. You know, where old folks live in their own houses, but get assistance if they need it. I’m not convinced it’s enough oversight.”
“Well, Mother is independent,” Antonia defended.
Benjamin’s snort said he didn’t consider that a good thing. He leaned farther forward, forearms resting on the knees of his conservative suit trousers. “Her doctor insists she doesn’t have Alzheimer’s. She hasn’t wandered off and forgotten who she is. Can I ask what your detective found?”
