Boston Avant-Garde: Impetuous (8 page)

“Erik isn’t one of those high society guys, Nicolai. He loves you like a brother.”

“I slept with his sister. Hell, you gave him a play-by-play of that first meeting. One word of this and he’ll probably keep the bar and throw me out on my ass.”

Flynn swept his hand wide, encompassing the food on the bar and the tables arranged for the meeting. “Is that why you let her stumble down here without even explaining what was going on? You were trying to chase her away by convincing her that you’re less than you are?”

“Less than I am? That’s a load of shit. I am less.” He turned away, staring at the piano. Now covered, it was a reminder that good only served to disguise the bad. “Even without her family ties, I can’t take the chance of dragging someone like her into all this. I’m recovering. There’s no cure. When I was gambling, I destroyed whatever I touched. I hurt the only people in my life who meant anything. I damn near lost everything.”

“But you’ve changed.”

“Have I?” He thought about Desiree’s sharp wit and wild abandon. “Erik saved me from myself. And even after all this time, I managed to repay him by sleeping with his sister.”

* * * *

Desiree had always heard people use the term “walk of shame” without really understanding what it meant. Getting out of the cab beneath the portico, obviously still wearing her evening clothes, while two delivery vans unloaded a shipment of folding chairs gave her a whole new perspective. When her sister’s fiancé pulled up in his Audi, she began to wonder if it was possible for her cheeks to catch fire.

“Desiree?” Jackson’s gaze raked her outfit from head to toe. “I suppose I should wish you good morning, but I think it would be more appropriate to say you had a good night.”

There was a certain leer in her future brother-in-law’s eyes that set her alarm bells ringing, but there was no time to think about that. Erik was striding toward her with an expression that brooked no argument.

Her brother put one hand in the small of her back and steered her toward one of the courtyards around the side of the house. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Out.” She could have said more, but her heart hurt. She didn’t want to talk about it. She wanted to go upstairs, take a shower, and lick her wounds in the privacy of her own room.

“Mother called me last night after the alarm had been set off and you’d disappeared. She was frantic.” He shoved his fingers through his dark hair. “Look, I know you’re a grown woman, but you should’ve at least called or texted to let me know you were okay last night. This isn’t the best time to lose your head.”

“Why? Because Selena’s getting married and we all have to put our best foot forward?” He probably didn’t deserve her emotional backlash, but he was a handy receptacle. “You’ve got a lot of balls going after me when
you
didn’t bother to call or show up last night! You ditched me with a roomful of douche bags.”

“I’m sorry, Des. I am. Talia hasn’t been feeling well, so we stayed home and ordered in.”

Desiree got the distinct feeling there was something he wasn’t telling her. Growing up, it’d been the two of them against the world. At one time she’d have said she knew her brother better than anyone else. Lately she’d started to wonder. First he’d gone crazy and mired himself in one of the most complicated romantic entanglements possible, and then he’d left Boston altogether.

“This isn’t like you, Desiree.”

She was so sick of people telling her that! “Maybe you just don’t know me anymore, Erik. Hell, maybe you never knew me to begin with.”

“Desiree, wait!”

She didn’t like being on the outs with her brother, but it seemed like there was nothing but friction between them these days. She knew he had her best interests in mind. Sometimes he just forgot she was a grown woman who could make her own choices. His expression was troubled. If things had been normal, she’d have stopped to go back and talk it out. But she was sick of playing peacemaker, doing constant damage control, and living her life in the tiny box society deemed appropriate.

Slipping into the house through the morning room, she was glad to note the place had a certain deserted feel. She looked both ways before dashing across the foyer and up the left side of the gracefully curved central staircase. From there it was just a short hop, skip, and jump to her room.

She’d hardly managed to lock her door and exhale with relief when someone knocked. There were three painfully polite raps, leaving no doubt in her mind as to who was on the other side.

“Yes, Mama?”

“Where have you been all morning? I’ve been looking for you everywhere, and now I see you duck back into your room. Care to explain yourself?”

Desiree cast about for something, anything, to say. Her gaze landed on a swimsuit she’d picked up at a little boutique she’d come across while waiting for Selena to finish her endless dress fittings. She ripped off her dress and pulled the suit half on. Dancing around, she tried to yank it the rest of the way up. “I’m sorry about that. I had drinks with Harmon last night”—which was true—“and slept late this morning.” Also true. “I was headed out to the pool to even up my tan, but I forgot my sunglasses.”

“Well, let me in, would you? We need to chat about a few things.”

Desiree tucked her cleavage into the suit—thank God the thing actually fit—and turned her doorknob to unlock it. There was no use putting it off. Annaline marched into the room, her eagle vision sweeping the minimal clutter and landing on the dress Desiree had just taken off.

“What. Is this?” She picked it up with one finger.

“Swimsuit cover-up, of course.” Desiree snatched it away. “What was it you needed?”

“I noticed this morning that you’ve hardly touched the correspondence in the last few days. Are you feeling all right? That’s not at all like you, Desiree. You know Jackie cannot get the responses out and update the calendar until you go through the invites.”

This was about the social calendar? Desiree applied all of her self-control to smooth her expression into a perfect poker face. “I’m so sorry, Mama. With all these dress fittings and arrangements for Selena’s wedding, it must’ve slipped my mind. I’ll take care of that right away.”

“No need to forgo a trip down to the pool. You should take a swim while you’re there. It’s a great way to tone those flabby areas.” Mama examined her manicure for several moments before looking up and catching the expression on Desiree’s face. “I don’t mean to be rude, Dee Dee. Toned bodies are healthy bodies, and I want you to be healthy and happy.”

The insinuation that she was fat didn’t sting as much as the childhood nickname Erik had given her when they were little. They weren’t little anymore, and Desiree would never be built like her willowy mother or her slender sister. No amount of dieting, exercise, or even liposuction had been able to change that. Still, at some point she wanted to stop feeling this tug-of-war between childhood and growing up. “I’m sure you’re right about the pool, especially since the weather has been abnormally mild for September.”

“If Selena is lucky, which she usually is, the weather will continue like this for her wedding. God knows it would be a nightmare to cram three hundred guests into the house for the ceremony.”

Desiree answered without thinking. “We’ve made provisions for the ballroom just in case. With some tents on the patios for overflow seating, we would still be able to put on a beautiful ceremony.”

“I’ve hired a wedding planner for all of this.”

“Isabel doesn’t know the estate or the staff like I do.”

“I suppose that’s true. It’s sweet of you to want your baby sister’s big day to be perfect. You’ve always had such a talent for event planning. You’re going to make a wonderful wife and mother someday.”

Yes, how sweet. Desiree would’ve been happier to see Selena elope and save everyone the trouble.

“It’ll be your turn to walk down that aisle soon enough, Desiree.” Mama’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. “How was your evening with Harmon? Should I ask Mr. Breckinridge to draft up a prenup for you just in case? He’ll be here this afternoon to get a final signature from Jackson.”

Kill me first
. “I don’t think we’re there just yet.”

“Oh, I forgot to mention it, but you need to fill in for your sister this evening at the Endangered Friends Charity Auction.”

“What happened to Selena? She’s never missed this event.”

“She’s been so stressed. I’ve sent her to Echoes for a night of spa treatments. Some yoga, a massage, and a nice body buff will put her back to rights. I was going to go to the auction with Jackson, but I’ve got a date with a guy I met at the club last week. He’s a landscape architect from Italy.”

A date? Great. At this rate her mother was going to walk down the aisle to marry groom number six before Desiree even met Mr. Right. Except…she had met Mr. Right. Sort of. She wondered what expression her mother would wear if it was Nicolai waiting at the altar instead of the Prince Charming Annaline had been waiting for since Desiree was out of diapers.

“Jackson mentioned he’d like to leave around seven for the auction.”

It had somehow escaped Desiree’s attention until that second that she was going to have to go as her future brother-in-law’s pseudodate. Not an appealing prospect on the best of days. “I’ll make sure and be ready on time, then.”

“You’re such a good girl.” Mama patted her arm. “Now go have your swim, and then get to that correspondence so Jackie can update my calendar. If things keep up like they are, I may have to schedule in some time for a romantic getaway. Federico has a villa in Tuscany.”

Ick. Nothing like picturing your mother having sex with a guy young enough to be her son to make you gag. Not that Desiree had anything against the MILF/cougar population; she just didn’t like to imagine her mother having sex. Period. “Mama, please be careful this time.”

“Dee Dee, sometimes you think like such an old woman. Federico is a perfect gentleman.” Which was more or less the same way she’d described her last three husbands before they’d turned into pricks and broken her heart.

“One of us has to keep her head on straight when it comes to you and romance.”

Her mother tapped Desiree’s nose with her fingertip, making her feel as if she were six once again. “Silly girl, go and have your swim, and quit worrying about my love life. You need to start paying attention to your own before your body ages enough to catch up with your mind.”

The bedroom door clicked shut behind Annaline, and Desiree sighed with relief. There was really nothing to do but charge right on through the rest of this hellish day. For something that had started so good, it was going downhill fast.

She wriggled back into her dress and tried to arrange it in a somewhat tasteful drape over her bathing suit. It hadn’t been one of her better fibs, but she was going to have to live with it. Ducking into the closet for a towel, she tried to remember that there were far worse ways to spend an afternoon.

Nicolai was in a bad mood. There was no other way to describe it. It was hard to believe he’d started the day by waking with an angel in his arms. Even in sleep she was demanding, but something about the way she’d snuggled as close as she could made him want to hold her even tighter. She’d kept her face pressed against his chest and her feet tucked between his calves. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched the daylight seep through the blinds in his apartment while a woman slept in his arms.

For maybe an hour he’d tried to justify keeping her in his life, but she was an Aasen. She was born to the kind of privilege he couldn’t possibly imagine. She belonged in a comfortable house on an estate with people to wait on her hand and foot. She deserved a guy who’d gotten an Ivy League education and had a steady job that could take care of her. They’d have a dozen kids—little boys with dark hair and hellcat girls with green eyes who’d drive their daddy crazy. Their daddy, who’d never in a million years be enough of a man for their mama, because Desiree was more woman than anyone realized.

Flynn interrupted the film reel in his head. “Did we get that shipment of whisky this morning?”

“How the hell would I know?”

“Well, let’s see…” Flynn held up his fingers, ticking off the reasons. “You were here this morning. You’re the boss, so you have to sign for the liquor. And well, you’re the boss.”

Flynn was right. Nicolai was the boss. “I’m pretty sure there was a case of whisky. It’d be stacked in the storage room. I was distracted this morning, so I wasn’t paying as much attention as I usually do.”

“Call Erik. Tell him what happened. You know he’ll handle it just fine. I think it’s insane that he’s never told his family he owns this place anyway. So really he’s got nobody to blame but himself. Seriously, what are the odds she’d walk into this bar? There have to be fifty bars in a twenty-mile radius.”

What
were
the odds? Nicolai pulled the bank wrap off a bundle of ones and put them in the cash drawer. “It isn’t that simple.”

“It’s exactly that simple. I’ve never seen you this way about a woman.” Flynn dropped his gaze. “At least not since Katie, and that’s been more than ten years.”

“Ten years hasn’t changed what I did.”

“No, but it’s changed you.”

The register let out an indignant ding when he shoved the cash drawer closed. “Have you got things under control back here?”

“Sure. Are you going to go give Erik a call?”

Flynn and his one-track mind. Nicolai didn’t even bother responding to the ridiculous suggestion. Insulting the man who’d once saved his ass and his bar was not on Nicolai’s short list of things to do. He was so close to getting back everything he’d lost all those years ago. Now wasn’t the time to think with his cock and not his brain. Besides, Desiree was an Aasen. No matter how much ten years had changed him, she could still do better.

He left the bar for the piano sitting so innocently in the corner. It was dim and cool back there. There was no need to keep the lights on while the bar was closed. The cover came off with one big pull. He tossed it over the jukebox, where it hung like a funeral shroud. He pulled the bench out and settled himself before the instrument. It would never be possible to sit and not remember the sight of Desiree’s sleek bottom resting on the black lacquer finish, or the sensation of her legs straddling his.