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“Ian, stop tickling!” came Di’s voice. “I’m going to kill you. I—” She broke off with a moan. “I’m on the phone with Brendan!”
Brendan could hear his brother in the distance: “So that’s why you’re already soaked. Ooooh, you bad little girl. Stay on the phone while I do this.”
Brendan’s chest felt hollow. He didn’t begrudge Ian and Di a minute of their happiness, but he missed his brother with an ache he couldn’t name. And ever since Ian had asked Diana to marry him last May, Brendan had felt like an accessory to their love.
Most of the time, he tried not to think about it.
“Brendan, we have to go,” Di said with a laugh. “Ian has to get up early for his shift at the gym. He’s aiming for promotion to manager. And I have class— Ooh!” Her voice rose in a squeal. “Okay, okay. We love you!”
“We,”Ian drawled playfully in the background.
“Love you, Di,” Brendan said, easing into a parking spot. “Get some rest.”
“I love you, man,” Ian yelled out.
A beep ended the call. Brendan looked at the silent phone in his hand. “Love you too.”
Opening his car door, he walked quickly around the corner to the nearby theater.
If he hurried, he’d catch the last half of Sonia’s show.
2
Friday
9:17 p.m.
Slouching in the small theater, Brendan stared at Sonia dancing onstage.
The audience barely filled half the room, and he could see why her company was struggling for money. But the show deserved a packed house, because what this woman did with her body was sheer genius.
Sucking in a breath, Brendan reached into his pocket. A tube of lipstick came out in his hand. He’d found it almost a year ago, but he examined it like he was seeing it for the first time.
The fluted gold case was dented. Inscribed on the bottom was a monogram that looked like a broken heart, turned upside down and inside out. Two capital Js were twined together, one turned backwards in a mirror image.
Somebody’s initials. Not Sonia’s, though he knew the lipstick was hers.
He turned his attention to the performance. He’d already seen it last night, and he should really be at the office. Especially since he’d be back tomorrow to officially “represent” Diana and Ian.
But Sonia, writhing in her sleek black costume, sent adrenaline surging through his veins.
As always, he slipped out afterwards without talking to her.
He rushed to a café that was open late to pick up coffees for Mel and himself, regretting the offer he’d made. At the Senate office building, he slumped at his desk and ran his hands through his hair as he stared at his email backlog.
When he grabbed his coffee for a sip, it sloshed onto his tie. Cursing, he unknotted it and tossed it aside.
This wasn’t how he operated. He didn’t spill things, didn’t rush. He was always careful. Never sloppy.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about Sonia. She was strong, yet moved like liquid gold onstage. Her dancing was pure sex. If she commanded her own body so well, what could she do in bed?
His balls ached, and his cock begged for her hand to wrap around it. Or, at the very least, his own.
Brendan gulped his coffee. This wasn’t what he wanted. He was in this town to build his career and rise through the political ranks. Sex and women were great, but incidental.
When Sonia Jacobson moved to Washington, DC, the district should have been big enough for him to forget she existed.
But it wasn’t.
