Page 14 of One Midnight Kiss

6

NATALIA

Friday night

I pulled up to Christa and Wilder’s townhouse, lucky to have found a spot pretty close. I noticed the Toyota Tacoma parked at the curb. It looked a little out of place in the neighborhood of Priuses and tiny economy cars. I parked and climbed the steep steps that led to the front door. As I got closer, the familiar sound of barking greeted me. I knocked on the door and waited.

Christa quickly opened it. The frantic scrabble of paws against hardwood floors sounded behind her.

“Hi, Frank and Harriet,” I said as the two Boston Terriers surrounded my ankles. Unhinged missiles of energy, they were very friendly and loved visitors, but they could be a little much.

“Get back, guys,” Christa said.

She pulled me in for a hug before I could object. Christa was the one person in the world I let get away with that. She had this way of enveloping you, like sunshine you couldn’t help but stand in. If she was going to hug someone, nobody was going to stop her. She was a genuinely kind, loving person. It was why she was going to be an amazing pediatric nurse. Her nurturing instinct showed through loud and proud.

“It smells good,” I said as I stepped inside. I handed her a bottle of wine I’d brought, an automatic gesture born of years of dinner parties and obligatory social gatherings.

She flashed me a grateful smile. “Thank you. I, uh, should have mentioned something sooner. Wilder’s brother is here tonight.”

“Okay. That should be interesting.” I shrugged out of my coat and hung it up on the coat rack in the corner.

“I didn’t think you would mind,” Christa said with a bright smile.

“It’s your house,” I said. “And your husband’s brother. Who am I to decide who can come to your house?”

I had forgotten Wilder was a twin. That was not entirely my fault. The whirlwind of my divorce from Andrew had overshadowed most of the time I should have been getting to know Christa’s husband before they got married. I had been wrapped up in my own world, learning to navigate life as a single woman again.

“Well, as long as you don’t mind.” Christa searched my face, then gave a little sigh of relief. “Good, good. Come on in.”

We walked into the dining room. The smell of rosemary and garlic filled the air. The table was set with mismatched plates and half-burned candles that gave off a soft, flickering light. And there, sitting at the head of the table, was that arrogant client, Fox.

The air seemed to shift when I saw him. As if he noticed, he looked up from his phone and our eyes met. That spark of recognition I’d felt earlier at the office hit me again, full force. This time, I couldn’t shake it off.

Christa passed me a glass of wine and gave me a hard pat on the back. “Well, I have some things to tend to in the kitchen,” she announced, entirely too cheerful. “You two chat. Get acquainted.”

Before I could protest, she was gone, disappearing into the other room. “I better help her,” Wilder said jumping out of his chair and practically running after her.

I took a deep breath, walking into the dining room with my head held high. “So, this is a surprise,” I said and pulled out a chair.

Now I understood why he looked familiar. He was Wilder’s twin. Wilder dressed differently and had a bit more of a reserved image about him but that explained why I thought I knew him in the conference room.

Fox gave me a smirk, the same infuriating expression he had during the meeting earlier. He set down his wine glass, regarding me like I was an interesting problem he couldn’t wait to solve. “Are you surprised? Or were you secretly hoping for this?”

I rolled my eyes. “In your dreams.”

He chuckled, a low, easy sound that put me on edge for some reason. “I wasn’t even considering being your friend, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Good,” I shot back. “Because I don’t mix business with personal.”

“Neither do I,” he said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the evening.”

Enjoy? He infuriated me with that relaxed, amused tone, like he knew something I didn’t. I busied myself pouring a glass of wine, trying to ignore the strange feeling crawling up my spine. It wasn’t just irritation. It was something deeper, like a memory trying to surface from a fog.

“You’re staring,” Fox noted, lifting his glass to his lips.

I snapped out of it, narrowing my eyes at him. “I’m assessing.”

He arched a brow. “Assessing what?”