Chapter 17
17
I guide her to the bar, my hand on her lower back, since I’ve discovered her dress is better than an all-expenses-paid tropical vacation.
It’s the kind that has an open back.
I’d like to thank the inventor of this style. He or she deserves a Nobel Prize. Sloane’s back is perfection. Smooth, soft, pale skin, and all of it is exposed for a visual feast.
Maybe I am in Tahiti tonight.
Maybe that’s where my alternate universe exists.
“What did you think of the show?” I ask when we reach the bar.
A hint of a smirk tugs at her lips. “I think that you have a tremendously unfair advantage in life.”
I furrow my brow as I rest an elbow on the bar’s metal surface. “How so?”
She sets her hand on my arm and drags her fingers down the fabric of my suit jacket. That feels so much better than should be legal, even through the material. “You can’t be this good-looking, this smart, this caring, this charming, and this talented too,” she says softly.
I tap my chin. “Hmm. You’re right. Something must be terribly wrong with me. Perhaps you’ll find it.”
“Mark my words: I’m going to figure it out. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Because there’s no way you landed all these panty-melting attributes without having terrible manners or bad breath or a closed mind.”
I flash her a smile. “You’re looking at a man who opens doors and says please and thank you, and my breath is minty fresh.” I lean in closer. “Also, my mind is all the way open. To just about anything.”
She gasps. Quickly, though, she seems to collect herself. “There has to be something.” She scans me up and down with an imaginary flaw detector, like that will find it.
“I can’t garden for shit,” I offer.
She rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t count.”
I look up at the ceiling as if lost in thought. “My handwriting is wretched.”
“Nope. Not enough.”
“Fine. Sometimes I like to watch football on Sundays and do nothing else.”
A hint of triumph crosses her eyes. “And do you do it in your boxers, occasionally scratching your balls?”
I scoff. “Please. No.” I take a deep breath. “I wear lounge pants.”
Her eyes light up. They absolutely dance in victory as she pokes my chest. “That’s it. That’s something I can work with. I can’t stand lounge pants or sports.”
“Or ball scratching?”
“Add them all together, and I’ve clearly located your flaw. Whew.”
“We can hunt for other flaws if you’d like. I’m sure I have tons of terrible habits.”
“Yes. Something has to be horribly wrong with you,” she insists.
“What’s wrong with him?” My sister jumps in, having just marched over to us. “Pull up a chair, honey. I hope you have all night though.”
I roll my eyes, gesturing toward the brunette behind the bar. “Sloane, this is my sister, Truly.”
Truly extends a hand to Sloane. “And you must be the famous Sloane Elizabeth.”
“I’m famous?” Sloane looks to me with curious eyes, then back at my sister. “Nice to meet you.”
“Good to meet you, and you are absolutely famous. He won’t stop talking about you.”
I glance at my twin. “Thanks, Truly,” I say drily.
She shrugs, grabbing some napkins to stuff into a holder. “That’s what sisters are for.” She tips her head to Sloane. “What can I get you?”
“A glass of champagne.”
Instantly, I wonder how the drink will taste on Sloane’s lips.
“And a Scotch for you, I presume?” Truly asks me.
“Sounds great.”
As Truly grabs the bottles, Sloane drums her fingers on the bar. Her nails are unpolished, and I love this detail about her. She’s a woman who works with her hands, and high-maintenance polish wouldn’t work for her. “Inquiring minds want to know. What did you tell her about me?”
“I might have mentioned you way back when.”
“And what did you mention?”
“Oh, you know. Met a girl. She’s fantastic. I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Really?” Her lips twitch in a smile.
“Yes, really.”
“I like that you told her.”
The way she looks at me, the way she says those words, sends a charge through my body. It makes the rest of the club disappear. “Why do you like that?”
She inches closer. “I did the same. I told my friend Piper.”
I arch an eyebrow, liking this information. “And what did you tell her?”
She runs her finger along the edge of the bar. “There was this guy . . .”
“And?”
Sloane shakes her head, her eyes a little nostalgic, her tone dipping into wistful. “You know what happened.”
I sigh. “I do know what happened. And I told my sister that too. I told her how devastated I was when I went into your dad’s office for my second job interview and saw the picture of you on his desk. Such a slap-in-the-face way to learn the woman I wanted was off-limits.” I pause, exhaling heavily. “And still is.”
She frowns. “Yes. So maybe we’ve found it.”
“Found what?”
“The flaw,” she says sadly. “I’m your business partner’s daughter, and that’s not changing.”
“And your dad has made it clear on more than one occasion that you’re off-limits.”
“No one’s good enough for his daughter, he believes.”
“He definitely believes that. And to top it off, you’re kind of, sort of my business partner in a way too.”
She shoots me a look. “Great. Thanks for reminding me.”
I smile. “What was I thinking? We’re supposed to be celebrating your big, huge donation. Screw all this sad shit.”
“Exactly. Tonight isn’t about the past and what might have been.”
Truly returns with our drinks, sliding a champagne to Sloane then a Scotch to me before walking away.
I raise a glass, and Sloane does the same. “To new opportunities,” I offer. “And making sure you don’t try to kiss me tonight.”
She clinks her glass to mine, laughing. “I’ll toast to making sure you don’t try to kiss me. So there.”
“Then let’s drink to being friends.”
“We can definitely be friends.” She knocks back some of her champagne. “To celebrations. To friendships. To new times.”
Unable to resist, I lean a little closer, getting a contact high from being inches away from her. “I like the sound of that very much.”
A throat clears. A voice cuts through the heat we’re radiating. “You guys should just get a room.”
I point my thumb at my sister. “Ignore her. It’s what I’ve done my entire life.”
“Please. You’ve never ignored me,” Truly says, parking her hands on the bar. “That’s the problem. I’m that little voice on your shoulder.”
Sloane meets Truly’s gaze. “I’m glad you’re his sister. I think he needs someone like you to keep him in line.” Sloane turns to me, satisfaction in the set of her jaw. “Because I’ve figured out your flaw.”
“What’s that?”
Her irises twinkle with mischief. “You don’t always listen to that little voice.”
Truly chuckles. “Oh, honey, there’s nothing truer than that.”
And it is true, because tonight, I’m listening to another voice.