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“Sera is special.”
“Tell me about it.”
“You don’t want to tangle with her. She’s Marisa’s cousin and not someone you can easily walk away from.”
“Hey—” Jordan held up his hands “—all I’m asking is that she cure my knee, not date me.” So what if Sera had already made a variation of Cole’s argument?
His brother’s tone was light, but there was also an undercurrent of warning. He wasn’t sure whether the note of caution was because Cole was thinking about Jordan’s best interests, or because he was naturally protective of his wife’s relative. Cole had always been the responsible one, relatively speaking, and Jordan had chalked it up to oldest-child syndrome.
“Face it, Jordan. You can’t turn off the charm. You love to get a rise out of Sera.”
“I thought I was helping her career by asking for her.”
“Apparently she doesn’t want the boost.”
Jordan twisted his lips in wry amusement. If he didn’t have a healthy ego, he’d be feeling a twinge of wounded pride right now. “Look, when the Razors’ management discovered I’d need physical therapy, they wanted me to try out a new outfit for them. I remembered Sera worked at Astra Therapeutics, so I mentioned the only name I knew when it was time to set up an appointment.”
“Except Sera doesn’t want to work with you.”
Jordan put a hand to his chest. “Be still my heart,” he said mockingly. “A woman who doesn’t want me.”
“You’ll get over it. Trust me, you don’t want to get involved with Marisa’s cousin. I’ve seen her in the boxing ring. She throws a mean left jab.”
“Which one?” Jordan joked. “Marisa or Sera?”
“Sera, but take my word for it, it’s in the genes.”
“And you know this how?”
Cole gave a long-suffering sigh. “Marisa and I met Sera at her gym once before having lunch nearby. She was finishing up her workout.” His brother’s lips quirked. “The rest I know because I’m married to one of the parties involved. Marisa is no pushover herself.”
So Sera boxed. Like him. Interesting. She liked to take out her frustrations on a punching bag?
Still, Jordan quieted. He hadn’t expected Sera to go to the trouble of recruiting Marisa and Cole to make her case. He’d thought he was doing her a good turn by asking for her by name. He was surprised by her level of opposition, and not for the first time he wondered what was behind it. Maybe he should let her off the hook about this physical-therapy gig if she was that panicked about it. But possibly not before finding out why she was so dead-
set against him...
Three
“Guess what?”
Sera regarded her older brother, Dante, with a wary eye. There’d been many guess whats in their lives. Guess what? I brought your hamster in for show-and-tell... Guess what? I’m dating your volleyball teammate... Guess what? You’re getting your own car—my old wreck. She loved her brother, but sometimes it was hard to like him.
This time, they were at Dory’s Café in downtown Welsdale, and she had some major armor against an unwelcome surprise. Namely, she was sitting down, already fortified by morning coffee ahead of brunch. And Dante was lucky—there was a table between them, so she couldn’t kick him in the shins as she might have done when she was six—not that she was above trying if things got out of hand.
“Okay,” she mustered, “I give up. What is it? Winning lottery numbers? One-way ticket to Mars? What?” She stuck out her chin and waited.
“Nothing so dramatic, sport.” Dante chuckled. “New job.”
Sera breathed a sigh of relief. “Congrats. That makes two of us in less than three years. Mom will be doing the happy dance.” Frankly, her mother could use good news. Rosana Perini was still putting the pieces of her life back together—rearranging the puzzle that had broken and scattered when she’d become a young widow. The whole family had needed to regroup when Joseph Perini had died six years ago when Sera was twenty-three. It was one of the things that had made Sera decide to start a new chapter in her life by going back to school for her physical-therapy degree.
“You’re looking at the new VP of Marketing for the New England Razors.”
Sera’s stomach plummeted as she was jerked back to the present. No, no and no. Dante’s working for the New England Razors meant only one thing: another connection to Jordan Serenghetti. Still, she managed to cough up the critical word. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Sera. It’s my dream job.”
Her brother had always been a sports nut. His teenage bedroom had been decorated with soccer, football and hockey memorabilia. No wonder someone had thought he was perfect for the Razors marketing position.
