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Meg was a tall, slender reed who’d inherited her mother’s large hands and feet, but not her mother’s extravagant beauty. Instead, Meg had her father’s more irregular features, along with his brown hair and darker coloring. Depending on the light, Meg’s eyes were either blue, green, or brown, as changeable as her personality. Meg was the little sister Georgie had always wanted, and Georgie loved her dearly, but that didn’t make her blind to Meg’s faults. Her friend was spoiled and impulsive, five feet ten inches of good times, good intentions, good heart, and almost total irresponsibility in her quest to outrun her famous parents’ legacies.
Georgie squeezed her shoulders. “How could you disappear for so long without calling one of us? We’ve missed you.”
“I was cut off from civilization. Time got away from me.” Meg pulled back far enough to spot the blender with its messy, unprocessed pink contents. “If that has alcohol in it, I want some.”
“It’s ten o’clock in the morning.”
“Not in Punjab. Start at the beginning and tell me everything.”
Bram, who must have let her in the house, appeared in the doorway. “How’s the grand reunion going?”
Meg ran to him. They’d dated a few times, over the protests of Georgie, Sasha, April, and both of Meg’s parents. Meg swore they’d never had sex, but Georgie didn’t entirely believe her. Now Meg snaked her arm around his waist. “Sorry to ignore you when I came in.” She gazed back at Georgie. “We never hooked up. I swear. Tell her, Bram.”
“If we never hooked up,” Bram said in his huskiest, sexiest drawl, “how do I know you have a dragon tattooed on your ass?”
“Because I told you. Don’t believe him, Georgie. Really. You know I only went out with him because my parents gave me such a hard time about it.” She looked up at Bram, which, with her considerable height, only required lifting her eyes a few inches. “I have oppositional disorder. The minute somebody tells me not to do something, I’m all over it. It’s a character flaw.”
He ran his hand up her spine and dropped his voice to a sexy purr. “If I’d known about that when we went out, I’d have demanded you keep your clothes on.”
Meg’s eyes flashed from sea green to a stormy blue. “Are you hitting on me?”
“Make sure you tell Georgie.”
Meg pointed her finger. “She’s standing right there.”
“How do you know she’s paying attention? If you’re her friend, you won’t let her ignore what’s going on right under her nose.”
Georgie lifted an eyebrow at him, then drowned them both out by switching on the blender. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten to tighten the lid.
“Watch it!”
“Jeez, Georgie…”
She lunged for the blender controls, but the buttons were slippery, and the machine spewed its contents everywhere. Strawberries, banana, flaxseed, wheatgrass, and carrot juice flew across the pristine counter, down the cabinets, spattered the floor and Georgie’s exorbitantly expensive wheat-colored tunic top. Bram pushed her aside and found the right button, but not before he decorated himself and his white T-shirt with colorful glop. “Chaz is going to kill you,” he said, the sexy drawl forgotten. “Seriously.”
Meg had been far enough away to escape unscathed, except for a bit of banana that she licked from her arm. “Who’s Chaz?”
Georgie snatched up a dish towel and started dabbing at her tunic. “Do you remember Mrs. Danvers, the scary housekeeper in Rebecca?”
Meg’s yak bone earrings bobbed. “I read the book in college.”
“Imagine her as a surly, twenty-year-old punk rocker who runs the place like Nurse Ratched in Cuckoo’s Nest, and you have Bram’s charming housekeeper, Chaz.”
Meg watched Bram pull his T-shirt over his head. “I’m not picking up a real strong love vibe between you two.”
Bram grabbed a dishcloth. “Then I guess you’re not as perceptive as you think. Why else would we have gotten married?”
“Because Georgie’s not accountable for her actions these days, and you’re after her money. Mom says you’re the kind of guy who never grows up.”
Georgie couldn’t hold back a smirk. “That might explain why Mommy Fleur refused to represent you.”
Bram’s expression of displeasure would have been more effective if his cheek hadn’t been smeared with gooey flaxseeds. “She wouldn’t represent you, either.”
“Only because I’m so close to Meg. It would have been a conflict of interest.”
“Not really,” Meg pointed out. “Mom loves you as a person, Georgie, but she wouldn’t be caught dead having to deal with your father. Do you guys mind if I crash here for a couple of days?”
“Yes!” Bram said.
