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The microwave clock cast a faint blue glow around the room, illuminating the maple cabinets and granite countertops. She smoothed her hand over the distressed wood panel of the Subzero door and laughed to herself, thinking about the avocado green fridge she needed to replace back in her apartment.
/> The stone tiles of the kitchen floor were cool as she stepped from foot to foot, riffling through the refrigerator for the milk. Into a mug, ninety seconds on high, spoonful of sugar, splash of vanilla and she was good to go. Perfect. The first sip, smooth and sweet, warmed her from lips to stomach. She let out a satisfied purr.
It was almost good enough to take her mind off the rest of the day.
She didn’t like stepping into the Dette persona for more than one or two lines at a time but now she’d have to do it for the rest of the week—at least whenever Cal was around. Both the Sinclair sisters could do more than a fair impression of each other, but the problem was it depressed Lara to do it. Dette’s impression of her included flattening her hair to her head and asking which jog bra she should wear to dinner. Lara’s impression of Dette required catty comments, shallow insights and non-stop fishing for compliments. It was silly sister stuff that neither took seriously because they knew it was just joking. All in good fun. But Lara still felt her attempt to be Dette wasn’t exactly a fair representation. For the purpose of convincing Cal, however, it was all she had.
Swallowing the last sip of milk, she rinsed her mug in the farmhouse sink and headed out of the kitchen, straight into a solid wall of man. With a stifled gasp, she tracked up the muscled chest to Cal’s stunned face.
“Oh, Jesus, sorry…Dette?” Cal’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he studied her in the dark.
Perfect, it was go time. Dette had a slightly abrasive quality to her interaction. “Not tonight. It’s Lara.”
“Oh sorry, all I could see for a second was the hair. I’ve been looking for you all night, I finally convinced myself I’d never find you.”
Looking for her? Easy, girl. Don’t fall into it, just get out fast. “I’m done in here, but you can help yourself to anything you see.”
His mouth turned in a slight grimace and “Lara” surfaced, suddenly wanting to die. “That was not a come-on.”
Cal’s entire being seemed to relax as he let out a warm laugh and walked past her to lean back against a counter, crossing one leg over the other. He must have thought he’d be the only one up. He was wearing what looked like a white undershirt and pair of dark track pants. “Believe me, I know.”
Be indifferent. “Whatever, ’night.”
Squaring her shoulders, she took a step toward the door.
“Wait, I’m sorry.” He reached out and grasped her shoulder.
The touch was unnerving, but she tried not to let it show. Every part of him was supposed to have touched every part of her. There should be some degree of comfort between them in the physical sense. Pinching her lips between her teeth, she looked up at him with what she hoped came across as a bored stare. But if her eyes reflected a fraction of the heat and interest simmering in her belly, she’d failed miserably. She wanted to study every inch of him.
“Lara, I’m willing to admit neither of us was at our best in Vegas. And I’m truly sorry I embarrassed you in front of your family this evening. What happened is none of their business. I just thought, when I saw Dette…well, you know, you must get that quite a bit.”
Okay, that was good, but it irked the hell out of her that he could mistake her for Dette. Before she thought better of it her resentment voiced itself. “Less than you’d think, actually,” Lara stated flatly, then winced, realizing she wasn’t helping her cause.
“I was in a kind of bad place when we got together.” Cal’s jaw flexed and his eyes searched hers. “I shouldn’t have judged you.”
She took a nervous step back. How was she supposed to respond? She hadn’t a clue what he was referring to and, maybe, that was how it should stay. It was between Cal and Dette, even if he didn’t know it.
Trying to avoid getting caught in details she didn’t understand, Lara shrugged noncommittally. “I’ve got to get some sleep, I’m beat.”
Cal reached out and stroked once, slowly down her arm. “Sure. Good night.”
It sounded like an obvious enough end to the conversation, but neither of them moved. Cal’s gaze traveled over her body, leaving a trail of tingling skin its wake. Her nipples beaded hard, pressing against the thin stretchy cotton of her top. She closed her robe and cinched the belt, praying there wasn’t enough light for him to see the effect he had on her.
She cleared her throat and, trying to keep her breath even, looked down at the floor as she walked around him.
“You aren’t the same person I met in Vegas,” came his voice from behind her.
She froze halfway through the doorway, her heart stalled in her chest. She looked back over her shoulder. Cal was staring at her. What could she say? That part of her was elated to hear he knew, but another part—the part of her sworn to protect her sister’s secret—was devastated.
Her voice cracked when she opened her mouth, sounded thick when she finally managed a word. “What?”
Cal looked down at his hands. “I don’t know what you were going through when you went there, but you’re different than I remember. The emails were so…” his voice was low, his gaze questioning as he studied her face, “…easy. Why wasn’t it like that in Vegas?”
Lara stared at him, her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t know, I wasn’t…myself in Vegas.”
He smirked, unaware of how truthful her statement was. “I guess we’re going to be spending some more time together over the next couple of days, so maybe we could start fresh.”
The smirk was cute, and contagious. He made it sound easy. She stepped back into the room and leaned against the counter. He knew how to say the right things. “Leave what happened in Vegas, in Vegas?” Could it be that simple?
