CHAPTER 3
Jannie
“Well, look who’s here. They kick you out already, Freak?”
Jannie stepped out of the stuffy Uber, glanced to the left where the familiar voice and childhood nickname had come from, and inwardly groaned.
Not one but both her brothers stood there, looking like a set of twins.
The only differences were an inch in height and Adam’s sharper jawline.
Since they both wore identical airline captain uniforms, the resemblance was even more striking, making passersby do a double take as they approached the entrance of the luxurious Lark Hotel.
Thank God her brother Adam owned it. Not a room could be found right now in Vegas, but here, she’d have a place to stay.
“Oh, my,” a woman murmured as she strutted by, fixing them with a lust-filled gaze, her cheeks flushing crimson and swinging her hips more than necessary.
Jannie suppressed a gag. This had been happening for decades, and she still found it annoying. She thanked the driver and turned to face her brothers.
“I thought you were staying at the rival hotel whose name we shall not mention,” Ian said.
Adam said nothing, just stared at her with curiosity.
She shrugged. “Yeah, well, plans sometimes change.”
Ian smirked. “The accommodations didn’t meet your stringent hygiene standards?”
She shot him a glare, which only made him laugh.
Jannie swallowed back her irritation. No way was she giving Ian the satisfaction of getting to her, and she sure as hell wasn’t telling her brothers why she was here.
They already disliked Blake, and she couldn’t blame them.
If the roles were reversed and either of them had been in her position, she, too, would have held a grudge.
“Anything I can do?” Adam asked.
She had to smile. Adam, the oldest, felt it was his duty to make sure every family member was properly looked after.
“Sure. Give me the nicest room you have in this big dump.” A slight cramp tightened her middle, and Jannie’s hand immediately went to her belly.
“You OK?” Adam’s expression went from puzzlement to concern.
She usually would have snapped at him about men’s inability to understand that pregnancy wasn’t an illness, but the way he looked at her stopped her. She had a closer bond with her serious and introspective older brother, confiding in him things she never felt comfortable sharing with Ian.
“I’m fine.” She gave him her most convincing smile.
But Adam didn’t seem convinced. He opened his mouth to say something.
“Jack’s here,” Ian said, and Jannie relaxed, relieved to escape Adam’s scrutiny and questions.
The LarsAir limo pulled up to the curb, and Jack, the chauffeur, politely greeted them, then hurried to take both Rollaboards and wheel them to the open trunk.
“We’ll be gone for the whole week.” Ian picked up his flight bag. “Stay in the penthouse.”
“Are you sure?”
Ian nodded, extracting his key card from his pocket and holding it out.
Jannie took it with a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” She very much preferred Ian’s germs over those from around the world. The sanitizing wipes could stay in her carry-on, one less thing for her to do.
Ian bent to kiss her cheek. “I do my best to keep it clean. If it’s not up to your standards, have housekeeping sanitize it for you.”
Jannie nodded, her stomach churning with the need to escape Adam’s assessing gaze.
“Safe flight, guys.” She gave Adam a quick hug.
“It will be. I’m the one flying left seat.” Ian’s grin was supremely cocky, but then, the man had gone from attorney to airline captain in three months; she couldn’t blame him for the flex. He’d successfully switched careers and changed the trajectory of his life, and he was seeing someone, too.
Must be nice.
She watched the long black limo drive away, her stomach growling in protest of her skipping lunch. Jannie passed her carry-on to the bellhop and headed to the lobby lounge, eager to rest her aching feet and order what she knew was an excellent lobster roll.
Her gaze lingered longingly over the cocktails on patrons’ tables as she sat at an empty one facing the open lobby. God, how she needed a drink.
Call girls. Screw Blake. Or rather, let the call girls do it. They were welcome to him.
This time, she was done. Done, done.
Although she’d often caved, this time was different.
She was beyond hurt; that feeling churning in her gut was outrage.
So much for following her mother’s advice to keep the lines of communication open.
All Blake understood from that was that her legs had been open, and look where that had gotten her.
She was finished trying to please her parents by fighting to fix an irreparably broken marriage. She was more than capable of raising her twins alone, despite her parents’ belief that a child needed both a mother and a father.
They would be upset about her decision, she knew. And her grandmother … Jannie inwardly groaned. Her grandmother, who believed marriage was sacred and forever, was going to be extremely disappointed.
Jannie let her gaze roam around the busy lobby lounge, seeking a much-needed distraction from her thoughts.
People-watching was a blast in Vegas. She especially liked checking out women’s handbags, which were her weakness, and Sin City was full of opportunities to spot the most coveted ones.
Her best friend, Sarah, had made her promise to take stealth pics of what she called purse porn.
As if sensing Jannie was thinking of her, Sarah’s text tone chimed from the purse insert inside Jannie’s vintage Balenciaga motorcycle bag.
Sarah: Hey, babe. All good?
Jannie hesitated. Sarah was like a sister to her.
They had become friends in high school when Jannie defended Sarah from a group of mean girls who constantly picked on her.
They bonded over many shared interests, and the best part was that Sarah had zero interest in Jannie’s brothers.
They went their separate ways for college but always stayed in touch.
One of the best days of Jannie’s life was when Sarah called to tell her she had secured a marketing job in Orlando.
If she told her what had gone down with Blake, she’d be immediately getting a FaceTime call, and Jannie wasn’t up for that.
Jannie: Yup. Flight was smooth, and I’m about to dig into the best lobster roll in Vegas. Already spotted a Croc Birkin.
Sarah: Pic?
Jannie quickly found and sent the photo of the gorgeous Asian woman carrying the exquisite red crocodile handbag, the hardware encrusted in tiny diamonds.
Sarah: Whoa. Two hundred grand, right there. I’d be terrified to carry that.
Jannie: I wouldn’t do exotic skins on principle, but it was a fantastic sighting.
Sarah: The croc is already dead, so (shrug emoji)
Jannie: Not funny. I’d never carry Dead Albert.
Sarah: Albert is a gator, not a croc.
Jannie laughed. Albert, the University of Florida mascot, brought back fond memories of her carefree college days. A nostalgic smile curved her lips. It would be nice to time-travel and go back there, if only for a day. She would do so many things differently.
Taking out her laptop, she spent the next half hour catching up on paperwork, answering emails, and calling patients while devouring the most delicious lobster roll ever created.
Popping the last bite into her mouth, she made a mental note to compliment Adam on his choice of chefs.
He demanded the best from his staff and got it; the restaurant employees were no exception.
“Is this seat taken?”
Jannie wiped her mouth with her napkin.
She looked up.
Oh.
Her lips parted, and she blinked a few times.
Because smiling down at her was a tall, drop-dead gorgeous, dark-haired man whose face seemed vaguely familiar.
She eyed the many empty nearby tables and looked up at him in confusion. “No.”
His smile broadened. “Great.”
Those eyes … irises so dark, they were indistinguishable from the pupils. Eyes that, at the moment, looked down on her with warmth, but something else was there too, drawing a shudder from her as her gaze locked on his.
She licked her lips.
The face of a dark angel and a bod made for sin.
Under a neatly trimmed beard, the square shape of his jaw contrasted with a sensual mouth that conjured graphic images of what those lips could do.
His perfectly tailored trousers and fitted white short-sleeved shirt showcased a physique she’d seen on fitness magazine and romance novel covers but believed was the result of Photoshop and clever lighting.
But he was very real. Broad, solid, and ridiculously fit, with muscles that gave her visions of him in a gym lifting a crazy amount of weight, grunting, teeth gnashing, sweat dripping from his brow.
She had an insane urge to run her hand over those biceps and see if they felt as hard as they looked.
And his forearms …
“So, may I sit here?”
His voice was dark molasses mixed with bourbon and grit. Coming from a gorgeous mouth that instantly had her thinking oh, such dirty thoughts.
She blinked. Maybe the Vegas vibe was rubbing off on her, making her this turned on for no apparent reason.
Yeah, bullshit. The reason stood right before her in the form of the sexiest man she’d ever seen.
Something gleamed in his dark eyes, as if he knew what she was thinking. “If it’s OK with you, I’d like to catch up with an old friend.”
Jannie blinked. “Old friend?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Unless you have a doppelg?nger somewhere, you’re Jannie Larssen.”
Her stomach flipped.
Who was this guy? Jannie looked up at him in stupefaction. “I’m sorry, I don’t …” She stopped short, thinking it rude to tell him she had no idea who he was. Had she laid eyes on him before, this fine specimen of a human male would surely have stayed in her memory forever.
His full lips curved into a wan smile. “You don’t remember me but I most definitely remember you.”
He paused. She waited. Still no idea who he might be.
“We went to high school together.” His smile turned into a smirk. “I’m Nick Kent.”
No way.
“Nick Kent,” Jannie repeated. “You. Are Nicholas Kent.”