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“Don’t bother,” he said, attempting to compose himself. “She can figure it out.”
Marcia stepped farther into the room and closed the door. “Guess you took my advice, huh, bro?”
“Bro?” Kelly’s head swung back and forth between them so fast she’d soon have a sore neck to go with her sore back. “Did she just call you bro?”
“I figured he’d told you.” Marcia smirked. “Since you’re so close and all now.”
“No. I didn’t. Thanks for doing the honors.” He dropped into his chair and clicked on the email that had appeared in his inbox. As soon as he had, he wished he hadn’t.
The Sinclairs would be in town this weekend. Diana’s parents. Fabulous. He hadn’t seen them in person for months. They had something important to discuss with him. Was he free for dinner tomorrow night?
He rubbed his forehead and wondered how many more ways he could split himself before he had nothing left to give.
“Let me get this straight. Marcia’s your sister. As in you share a bloodline and parents and Christmases around the tree.”
“Can’t you see the family resemblance? We’re both strikingly gorgeous.” Marcia answered for him since he’d yet to drag his attention from the computer screen. “We don’t always do the Christmas thing in any formal way, since our parents and our younger brother live in Florida now. Hard to get us all in one spot, but—Spence, what the hell is so damn interesting on that screen?”
“The Sinclairs are in town. Want to have dinner tomorrow night,” he said shortly.
“Oh.” A pause. “Alone?”
He knew what she was asking but he didn’t have an answer. Diana had left the company years ago to work on her marriage, far from the “stresses” of a high-powered, demanding job. Which was doublespeak for far away from him and the job she’d given up to keep him quiet.
Yesterday he’d heard talk that Diana was back in town. He hoped to hell it was just gossip.
His glance shot to Kelly. Her cheeks were still pink from their kiss. She looked soft and sweet and completely beyond his scope.
He’d gone down this road before. One would think he’d learn.
“I don’t know,” he said, closing the email without answering. “Did you need something, Marsh?”
“Just wanted to see if you were up for coming out to lunch. But I see you’re staying in. So I’ll leave you alone.”
When she shut the door behind her, he closed his eyes and leaned against his headrest. Had he ever been so bone-wearyingly tired? And since when did he host his own pity parties?
“Yes, Marcia’s my sister,” he said after a moment. “Yes, I would’ve told you, if I thought it concerned us. It’s not really a secret. We just don’t go around telling every new employee who strolls in the door. Marsh asked me due to some events that occurred here to not advertise our connection and I do my best to abide by her wishes.”
Talk about a nice way to put it. She’d all but screamed in his face when his affair with Diana had blown up that if he wanted to fucking end his career, he wouldn’t kill hers too.
When he’d ended up with the RM position, she hadn’t changed her stance. To her mind, it had been touch and go and she didn’t want to be painted with his dirty brush.
“Oh, back to the infamous situation. Must’ve been pretty big to have you still shaking in your loafers.”
He narrowed his eyes but didn’t address her comment. He knew all too well her tendency to strike out like a wounded rattler when her feelings were hurt. What good would it do to dredge up all that business with Diana? It was over. It had nothing to do with them.
“Marcia uses her ex-husband’s name and we don’t make an issue out of our relationship,” he said evenly. “It’s no big deal.”
“To you it’s not. I get no say. Is that correct?”
“About this, no. It’s not relevant. Go ahead,” he said when silence reigned. “You know you want to bite my head off. Just get it over with.”
“No point. I understand perfectly. Keeping secrets is another way of holding on to control. If you’re the one with all the cards, you’re the one who wins. If anyone’s still playing.”
Startled at the accuracy of the jab, he started to rise as she closed the door behind her. She didn’t slam it, but the echo reverberated just the same.
Spencer stared at the lunch sack on his desk. Great. How many more ways could he fuck up in one day?
He turned back to his email. He was about to find out.
