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“If we do a good job,” Bernice continued, “we should get regular business from the New England Razors. It’ll be a huge boost for Astra Therapeutics and for your career.”
Sera held back a grimace. As far as her boss was concerned, there’d be no getting out of this gig.
Bernice tilted her head. “You’ve dealt with difficult clients before. We all have.”
Sera opened and closed her mouth. This was different. But she could hard
ly explain why. “Isn’t this like nepotism? I get the plum client because he’s related to me by marriage?”
Bernice chuckled. “The fact that you’re practically family should make this assignment a piece of cake.” Her manager looked thoughtful. “Or if he’s a bad in-law, well then, we’ve all had those, too.”
Sera pressed her lips together. Damn it. She’d worked so hard to get her physical-therapy degree. She’d moonlighted as a waitress and endured three grueling years back at school for a graduate degree. And now Jordan Serenghetti stood in the path of her advancement.
Bernice gave her an inquisitive look. “On the other hand, is your problem that Jordan has too much magnetism? Some people get starstruck by celebrities and have a hard time focusing on the job.”
Sera spluttered. “Please. The fake charm is a big turnoff.”
Her manager raised her eyebrows.
Sera’s face heated, and she quickly added, “I’m not taking it personally. There isn’t a woman alive Jordan doesn’t try to charm.”
“You know, if I were a little younger, and my husband would let me, I’d consider dating Jordan Serenghetti.”
“Bernice, please! You’ve got gold with Keith. Why trade it in for pyrite?” Sera knew her manager had just celebrated her sixtieth birthday and thirtieth wedding anniversary.
“What makes you think Jordan isn’t genuine?” Bernice countered.
Sera threw up her hands. She wasn’t about to dig into her past with her boss—and explain how she’d honed her instincts about men the hard way. She was wise enough these days not to be taken in by ripped biceps—hadn’t she seen them up close an hour ago?—and hard abs. Probably those lips were still magic, too. “The problem is he knows he has the goods.”
Bernice laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with a man who’s confident.”
“Try arrogant.” Sera knew she had to talk to Marisa. Perhaps her cousin could convince Jordan that this work arrangement wasn’t a good idea. If she couldn’t get out of this assignment herself, maybe Jordan would back out.
Knowing she wasn’t going to get anywhere with Bernice, Sera decided to back off and change the subject. But when her workday ended at four, she made the short drive from Astra Therapeutics’ offices outside Springfield to Marisa and Cole’s new home in Welsdale.
Sera pulled up to a classic center-hall colonial and thanked her lucky stars for May in western Massachusetts. The breezy, sunny day could almost erase her mood. She had texted Marisa in advance, so when she got out of her beat-up sedan, her cousin was already opening the front door.
Marisa wore a baby sling and raised a finger to her lips but exchanged a quick peck on the cheek with Sera. “Dahlia just fell asleep. I’m going to lay her down in her crib and be right with you.”
“You and Cole have gone all Hollywood with the baby naming,” Sera remarked wryly, because even months later, the baby’s name brought a smile to her lips.
“If Daisy is acceptable, why not Dahlia?” Marisa said over her shoulder as Sera closed the door and followed her into the house.
“And here I thought Rick and Chiara would go all name crazy, but no, nope, they had to settle on something traditional like Vincent.” Frankly, it wouldn’t have surprised her in the least if the middle Serenghetti brother and his new wife, actress Chiara Feran, who resided in Los Angeles most of the time—home to the weird Hollywood baby-naming craze—had come up with something like Moonlight or Starburst.
Sera bore only a passing resemblance to her cousin. They shared the amber eyes that were a family trait, but she’d grown a shade taller than Marisa by the time she was fourteen—and her dark blond hair set her apart from her cousin, who had long curly brown locks. When Sera had been younger, she and Marisa had been deep in each other’s pockets, and sometimes she’d wished the similarities had been strong enough that they could easily pass as sisters.
“I’ll be right back,” Marisa said as she started up the stairs from the entry hall. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
As Sera made her way to the back of the house, she noted once again that it bore the stamp of domesticity. The new home was still sparsely furnished, but the signs of baby were all around. She figured that Jordan must break out in hives here.
When her cousin came back downstairs moments later, Sera put down her glass of flavored water and braced her hands on the granite kitchen countertop. She wasted no words. “Marisa, Jordan is about to become a client of mine.”
Her cousin’s expression remained mild as she turned on a baby monitor. “They’re sending him to you to help recover from his torn ACL.”
Sera didn’t mask her surprise. “You know? And you didn’t warn me?”
“I found out just this morning. Cole happened to mention Jordan was heading to Astra Therapeutics. But I wasn’t sure he would definitely be assigned to you.” Her cousin wrinkled her brow. “Though, come to think of it, he did make an offhand comment to Cole about possibly asking for you...” She shrugged. “We thought he was teasing because, ah, you two have always seemed to rub each other the wrong way at family gatherings.”
