Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Tzipi’s hands still smelled like vanilla and sugar.
She’d scrubbed them twice in the closest ladies’ room, but the scent clung to her skin, a souvenir from twenty minutes of Max’s body heat radiating next to her while they had frosted cookies like in a freakin’ Hallmark movie.
Her face felt hot. Her chest tight. And somewhere between the sprinkles and the way he’d licked frosting off his wrist at one point, she’d completely forgotten she was supposed to be her sister.
Kara wouldn’t have fumbled the piping bag.
Kara would’ve been effortlessly charming, perfectly composed, giving just enough flirtation to keep everyone – Max, included – in her back pocket.
Tzipi had just…been herself. Laughing too loud at his jokes.
Getting competitive about their decorating skills.
Brushing sprinkles off his bowtie and letting her hand linger a half-second too long.
“Smooth, Solokoff. Real smooth.”
Kara also would’ve been Teflon to the rest of them. Robby and Hannon and even that Leah woman. All trying to hang on. Nothing sticking.
Her phone pinged an incoming text from Kara, of course. It was as if her sister was in the corner stall, eavesdropping as Tzipi trash-talked herself in the vanity mirror.
Everything’s all set for tomorrow, so excited!
We could never have done this without you, Tiz.
Thankyouthankyouthankyou
Hope you are having fun!!! MAJOR Baller FOMO right now.
She gave one last look in the mirror. Hair still intact – thank God for Bree’s industrial strength hairspray. The lips could use a plump-up, but that was fine. What wasn’t fine was the stupid smile she couldn’t quite wipe off her face.
You’re not supposed to like him, like him.
Bottom line: he worked for Kara. He probably had a whole roster of celebrity clients he shepherded through events. Joked with other divas. Stayed professional while they flirted and fawned over him.
Except he hadn’t. He’d gotten personal.
And he’d looked at her like she wasn’t just another night shift.
Especially in that photo booth.
And on the deck.
And by the menorah.
And just now?
Just now it was like he had looked into her eyes and right down into her soul. To the point where she had to make the excuse to flee to the sanctuary of the ladies’ lounge to wash off frosting.
Although he had warned there was going to be a sprinkle massacre.
God, she liked him. Liked learning about his sisters, his unexpected skills, his jokes.
Max was making the hours here fly by, and the truth? She kind of didn’t want the night to end.
But in the end, he was doing his job. Kara's job. And in a few hours, Tzipi would go back to being nobody's priority.
With shaking hands, she did a swipe of the gloss and relished in the burn.
Then pulled open the door and stepped out… right into the arms of Hollywood’s leading man.
Jonah had waited until she slipped into the restroom before he let himself breathe.
She’s not Kara.
The thought sat heavy in his chest. Unmovable. Obvious, now that he had seen it. Most had been little things. Easy to miss. But he had missed them for hours.
She’s Kara’s sister.
And she thought he was her bodyguard. Max.
Jonah leaned back, letting the pieces fall into place.
His brain did what it always did: like a dog with a chew toy, it kept processing things like it processed general ledgers.
Mentally assigning journal entries to shit that didn’t quite fit anywhere else, debiting and crediting them in order for them to balance out.
He needed shit to balance out.
She’d assumed he was part of her security detail. Which meant the real Max – whoever the hell that was – either wasn’t here, or she’d never actually met him before tonight.
She has no idea who I really am.
Which should’ve been a relief. Except it wasn’t. Because the way she’d laughed with him, teased him and leaned into his space and let her guard down –
That wasn’t Kara Koff, celebrity, who had come to his rescue last year and was now letting him make amends.
That was her sister, connecting with someone she thought she could trust.
Jonah pulled out his phone. First things first: confirm what he thought he knew.
He typed into his browser app: Room to Bloom twins.
Tzipora Solokoff.
Right there in the Wiki.
Twin sister of actress Kara Koff (born Karmit Solokoff.)
Okay, so he was right about who she was.
But he still didn’t know why.
Again, his brain – the same brain that couldn’t close a tax return until every receipt was accounted for – needed all the information before he acted. The complete picture. Where was Kara? Why the switch? What was the actual situation here?
Whatever reason they had for doing this – good or bad – had the potential to implode. Publicly. Spectacularly. She needs someone watching her back.
He wanted to help.
And the real Max wasn’t here.
But Jonah was.
This is a terrible idea, his heckler deadpanned.
Probably. Yeah. Definitely.
Tzipora. He had a name now. Not Kara. No Dr. Ackerman in the picture.
Any boyfriend in the picture?
Step away from the Google, Klein. Not the time.
His chest did something complicated.
She’s got enough problems without you catching feelings.
But the feelings were already caught.
Focus: one crisis at a time. Get her through the boat. Figure out the rest later.
Later was going to be complicated.
He looked back down at his phone and opened his texts. The picture Sylvie had sent earlier, of her and Eli’s hands holding the rainbow shave ice, was at the top.
On impulse, he shot Eli a text:
Any words of Baller wisdom?
His response was almost immediate:
Did you try the gelt?
Very funny. Eli stocked the green room with that stuff every year. But it did remind him of the message he’d unwrapped earlier.
Eight Nights, No Regrets.
He could do this. Keep an eye on her. Run interference with anyone who got too nosy.
Make sure she got through the rest of the night without her cover being blown.
Figure out the full story – why she was doing this, where Kara actually was.
And then, when the boat docked and she was safe, and he had all the information, then he’d come clean.
It’s just a few more hours.
He thought of the way she’d looked at him after the photo booth had snapped its last picture. How her smile had widened, softened, into something real.
Fuck.
Yeah. He was going to protect her.
Even if it meant falling spectacularly on his face all over again.