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Chapter 3
Reese Crane
In a silver wrap-dressthat Reese had bought her, Merina glided through Eli’s warehouse. His wife’s arms were loaded with gifts. She walked straight to the decorated tree and squatted in high-heeled black shoes to arrange them. The boxes complemented her metallic-colored dress, they themselves wrapped in silver and gold paper that was shinier than the Crane itself. But there wasn’t a luxury hotel hiding within those identical boxes, no.
There were Christmas ornaments carefully hand-crafted by Merina herself.
She’d always loved design and buildings and décor. This year, she’d taken a glass-blowing class with the Esther Langley, a retired artist who lived in Chicago. Merina had been hooked. She came alive at the prospect of learning a new skill, and he’d loved seeing her attack a fresh goal with verve.
Especially since she was awful at it.
The glass ornaments were lumpy and opaque where they should be smooth and transparent. When she’d told him she couldn’t gift them to his family because they were too ugly, Reese had bitten his tongue and kissed his wife’s forehead.
“They love you. I love you. You poured months into this project. You should wrap them.”
“Even though they’re ugly?” Merina showed vulnerability on the rare occasion, so that delicately asked question paired with the soft bend of her eyebrows had crushed his heart like an aluminum can.
It reminded him of a moment early in their marriage of convenience when she’d run from him to cry in the shower. She’d been lonely, and he’d been an insufferable jackass. They’d both known that sex wouldn’t fix it, but had indulged anyway, making love for the first time of what became many.
“You make ugly palatable even to the pickiest connoisseur,” he’d told her. Then he’d lifted her chin gently. “Look at me. A broken disaster, yet anyone who sees me with you believes I’m a catch.”
That had earned him a lengthy kiss followed by sex on the kitchen counter—his favorite. Magda, his house manager, had scuttled out to the garage the second Reese touched his lips to his wife’s.
As well Magda should have. She knew from experience that when they started, they didn’t stop.
“I included a one-hundred-dollar gift card to Chow Main in each of the boxes,” Merina whispered now. She raised an eyebrow. “Just in case.”
“Perfect,” he praised, cupping her jaw with his hand. He held her gaze for long enough that her beautiful face split into a smile.
“What?”
“If I had to go back. If I had the option to make the executive order to replace all of the Van Heusen’s doorknobs with keypads, I’d do it all over again.”
“You’d wreck my beloved boutique hotel?” She pressed her hand to her collarbone, feigning shock and knowing exactly what he was getting at.
“Yes.” He pulled her closer. “If you wouldn’t have marched over to the Crane during a downpour, if you wouldn’t have plunked a disembodied doorknob onto my desk, if I wouldn’t have gotten a solid look at a pair of pointing nipples through your silk shirt or your fantastic ire—” He earned a pinch for that “—then you wouldn’t be standing here in my arms and I’d be a lonely, lonelybillionaire.”
“Lucky you.” Then she kissed him.
In spite of their not being alone, he kissed her back. Long, slow. Deep.
“What a bunch of horndogs,” Tag interrupted.
Reese’s lips froze on his wife’s, but Merina was smiling. She turned her head to take in Tag, letting go of Reese to prop her fists on her hips and scold him properly.
“Taggart Crane.”
“Don’t.”
Reese grinned. His youngest brother hated his full name.
“When is this ‘big surprise’ actually happening?” Merina whispered harshly, first checking for Rachel. She was talking to Isa in the kitchen, their voices low, their expressions animated. Reese had told Merina there was a “surprise” in store, and that it involved Rachel. That was all she knew. Tag had made him promise.
Tag peeked over one giant shoulder to assess the coordinates of his fiancée, then muttered a non-descript, “Soon.”
“Soon?”
“Yeah, soon.” His smile pulled into a frown. He looked sorry he’d approached at all.
