Sweet in Love (2 page)

“That’s completely irrelevant. We didn’t meet now. You are Amandine’s younger brother, and I’m her best friend. There’s no point in discussing something that can never be.”

“It’s not irrelevant.” He used his chopsticks to gesture. “You’re avoiding the point of my hypotheticals, and—”

“I’m doing what to your what?”

“…and that tells me everything I need to know.”

Brooke was starting to feel a little dizzy. “Which is…?”

“That I’m not the only one who’s interested in giving us a real chance.”

PETE SAW BROOKE’S BEAUTIFUL EYES WIDEN and almost wanted to laugh at himself. Why had he waited this long to make his move?

She was adorable. There was this hint of innocence that made him want to pick her up and cuddle her, never mind their age difference.

“Why are you doing this? Why now?” Brooke asked.

“You know that Amandine almost divorced Gavin.”

Brooke was Amandine’s personal assistant, so this wasn’t news. “Of course. And?”

“It could’ve gotten to the point where I’d have had no choice but to quit.”

“Okay,” she said. “Still not seeing how that’s relevant.” She put another piece of lobster into her mouth.

Christ, she even looked cute when she chewed. The great thing about Brooke was she wasn’t some dainty grass-eater. He hated women who said okay to a date at a steak house and then ordered a Caesar salad for dinner. What the hell was the point? “My options, as Amandine told me, were Texas or New York.”

“Sterling & Wilson, or the East Coast crowd.”

“Right. Have you ever wondered why I chose to work for Gavin?”

“Cronyism? No, wait, I know. Nepotism!”

He sighed. “Because you’re in L.A.”

Her face went slack.

“I could’ve gone and worked someplace else, like Amandine said. I have the right résumé and qualifications, but I couldn’t have asked you to come with me. I didn’t have the right.”

She put her chopsticks down. “Pete, what’s going on here? You think you can take me out for Chinese, and…what? Somehow magically get the right to whisk me away to wherever you want?”

He shook his head. “This is about me taking action, Brooke. Doing what I’ve always wanted to do. Which is have you in my life. We’ve had plenty of time to grow up, and I don’t want to wait, wait, and then wait some more for the ‘right time’, only to lose you to somebody else.”

She stared at him. “This is crazy, Pete. I’m not something you can have.”

“I know. You’re somebody I have to win.”

“What if I don’t want to be won?”

“Then it’ll be up to me to change your mind.”

“You mean you’re going to pester me until I say yes just to make you go away?”

“That’s unfair. I’ve never pestered you. I didn’t call you even once after you told me you didn’t want to talk to me, remember?”

She nodded slowly.

“I’ve kept my distance for eight years, half-hoping I’d meet somebody else. But I haven’t, and neither have you. So let’s give it another chance.”

She looked sweet and thoughtful as she processed what he’d said. “Pete…this is flattering. But if things don’t go well between us, it’s going to be really, really awkward. I’m not just your sister’s best friend. I’m also her assistant, and your brother-in-law pays both our salaries.”

“That’s true. So if things don’t work out between us, I’ll quit and move.”

Her eyes widened. “You will?”

“Like I said, employment options aren’t exactly a problem. I can always go work for some other firm.”

She cringed. “I don’t want you to cut ties with your sister or anything.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m removing obstacles. Of course I’ll be back for Thanksgiving and Christmas and so on, but I won’t be in the way, making you feel uncomfortable.”

“But—”

“Hey. This isn’t some rash, off-the-cuff promise. I’m ready to make the sacrifice if necessary. It’d be unfair for you to have to give up your job because of what I want.”

“But Amandine says you love your job.”

“I do. But there are things I love more.”

* * *

Brooke ate the rest of dinner more or less in silence, mulling things over. A daintier woman might have lost her appetite after Pete’s announcement, but she’d learned to be practical from an early age.

Afterward, Pete started walking with her outside. “Didn’t you drive?” she said. “I can walk myself home.”

“It’s no trouble.” He put a hand to the small of her back. He was warm and as he fell in beside her he smelled like soap and freshly cut trees.

He towered over her. But then she was short. That, plus the fact that he had always seemed more mature than his age, was probably why she’d gone insane all those years ago and let him kiss her…and then kissed him back. It’d seemed like such a natural way to kill time in an empty high school gym, while waiting for Amandine to finish talking with her guidance counselor. Thank god for the minor quake that had hit the city. By the time it had jolted sanity back into her, they were panting, their hands busy exploring each other’s bodies. Her sex had been dripping wet, his thick and hard.

She’d fled back to UCLA immediately without a word to Pete or Amandine. Pete had called a few hours later to ask how she was doing.

“It never happened. Don’t call me again.” she’d said. Now that she thought back on it, her voice had probably been colder than necessary.

And he hadn’t. Until today.

Did he really want to see where things would go between them? All because they were both still single after eight years?

If Pete had waited another month before making his move, maybe she would’ve been busy dating the cardiologist whose mother owned a laundromat.

They had a pleasant stroll through the neighborhood, ending up at the entrance to her apartment complex. “Thanks for dinner,” she said.

“My pleasure.” He had a smile on his face, and shifted until he was crowding her a bit. Yet she didn’t feel trapped. Her heart hammered like a sparrow’s. What would he do next? Kiss her?

Would his kiss be as amazing as the ones in her memory?

He dipped his head, his long eyelashes shielding his eyes from her scrutiny. His mouth grazed hers in an inquiry, and after a moment she tilted her head, fitting her lips to his.

His kiss was familiar, but with a maturity and sureness that made her spine tingle. His tongue gently traced the seam of her mouth, and she opened wider, and used her tongue to steal a quick taste.

She moaned softly when the flavors of man and tea registered. She couldn’t believe how much she wanted him, wanted to devour him with the greed she’d displayed eight years ago. Her panties grew damp as she pulled his tongue into her mouth and sucked it. She pressed closer, fitting her body against his, and groaned when she felt his thick, hard erection pushing against her.

Suddenly, he pulled away. She gripped his jacket lapels, trying to draw him back, but a soft throat-clearing behind him caught her attention.

“Excuse me. I need to get in.”

Oh crap. It was Mrs. Nesbitt, her neighbor. Brooke pulled her lips in and stepped away from the door.

The old lady winked as she shuffled past. “You’ve got a handsome one there, dear. Why not invite him in? It’s nicer in your apartment, hmm?”

Brooke’s face burned as the woman slipped behind the door. Holy shit, what the hell had she been thinking? She was so lost in the kiss that she might have gone all the way right where they were. Like she had been in the empty gym.

“I should go up,” she said.

“Brooke—”

“I know what you want, and I think a kiss is enough for one evening’s work, don’t you?” Her lips still tingled, sensitive and swollen.

He took a breath. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

“Tomorrow’s Monday.”

“So?”

“Don’t you have to work? Does Gavin actually let you leave before, like, midnight?” Gavin had been the most notorious workaholic. He’d recently cut back, but that meant everyone else at his firm worked longer hours.

“Don’t worry. I can leave when I clear my to-do’s.”

“Well…okay. Where are you taking me?”

“On a life-long journey of excitement and romance, if you’ll let me. Oh, you mean tomorrow? La Mer.” And he smiled and walked away, his gait loose-hipped and relaxed.

She wished she could be that casual. But she was too wound up to do anything but lean against the door and pull herself together before slowly making her way to the ninth floor, where her apartment was.

* * *

The next afternoon, Brooke sat next to Amandine in the master bedroom suite of the gigantic mansion her best friend called home.

Brooke took off her sandals and tucked her feet under her butt. Amandine was on the bed, surrounded by interior decorating magazines, browsing flooring quotes on her slim tablet. She was showing now, and given how she’d fainted once during the first trimester, she basically stayed home except for some moderate exercise and dining out once or twice a week. That meant Brooke had even fewer things to do, since Amandine’s social calendar, which she managed, was far less full. Being married to a man as successful as Gavin Lloyd meant being kept busy—well, normally—with fundraisers for charities and foundations.

Why couldn’t Amandine just have a healthy and uneventful pregnancy? It would’ve relieved Brooke’s mind, and having her normal duties would have kept her too busy to think about Pete and what had happened the night before.

She’d sternly ordered herself not to think about it, but to no avail. Her perverse mind kept flashing images of them doing it in her apartment, like Mrs. Nesbitt had suggested. She and Pete on her bed, bodies flush against each other; she bent over the back of her couch, Pete’s hands on her hips, thrusting into her from be—

“Hel-looo?” A hand waved in her vision. “Are you even listening?”

“Huh?”

Amandine frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not like you to space out like that. And you look a little flushed.”

“Sorry. Just, um, some insomnia last night.”

“You?”

“It happens.”
Impossible to get a good night’s sleep when my mind keeps playing porn featuring me and your brother
.

“You want to take the afternoon off? Maybe catch a nap?”

“I’m all right.”

“Well, I’m going to have one. You know I need my rest these days.”

True. Amandine had been sleeping a lot since her pregnancy.

“C’mon, we can nap together. It’ll help you feel better too.”

Not a bad idea. Besides, she had no idea how late Pete planned to keep her up on their date at La Mer. Or how late she wanted him to keep her up. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Amandine smiled and stretched again. “God, I’m really starting to show.”

“You look great.”

It didn’t matter Amandine looked like she’d swallowed half a watermelon. She glowed, not just from pregnancy but with the assurance of a woman who knew she was loved unconditionally. She had everything she wanted: a loving husband and a successful brother and a great set of in-laws who adored her. What Brooke had was something a lot simpler—a job she generally enjoyed and friends and family who loved her—but just as satisfying. It’d mess everything up if she gave into Pete’s offer and dated him. She wasn’t sure if he wanted to date casually, the way she preferred. Guys didn’t wait eight years for a casual date.

And when things ended—like they always, inevitably did—there’d be an ugly, awkward mess to deal with.

PETE’S OFFICE WAS just like any other at the firm: ten by ten with a couple of windows. But that was where the similarity stopped. Everyone else had decorated theirs with the discretionary budget they’d received upon joining the firm. Shelves and bookcases holding cheaply framed photos of friends and family were de rigueur. Wallpaper and a plant or two in the case of the female staff. A few people had bought art prints in an attempt to lessen the toll of endless hours spent at their desks.

But Pete’s walls were bare, his desk clear, not a single shelf had been installed. So long as he had a clean computer screen, good lighting and a comfortable chair, he was happy. None of the other stuff would have helped him to be more productive.

A steaming cup of latte in his hand, Pete sat in his ergonomically correct Aeron chair, his office door open. He didn’t believe in keeping himself closed off at work. That was the surest way to miss opportunities.

A little alert flashed on his monitor, and he chuckled when he saw the message.

Gavin stopped outside and stuck his head in. “What’s so funny?”

“Just made half a million bucks.”

“Not bad.” He leaned against the door sill. His three-piece suit, unlike Pete’s, was hand-tailored in Europe—probably Italy. Pete had never seen Gavin in anything more casual at work, and everyone dressed to emulate him. “Which trade?”

“That currency short I told you about.”

“Nice.”

“Thanks.” Pete beamed. “A good day’s work before my date this evening.”

“Ah, that’s right. At La Mer.”

“Yup. I owe you one.” Without Gavin’s help, Pete would’ve never been able to get a dinner reservation at one of the most exclusive restaurants in L.A. on such short notice.

“No problem. So who’s the lucky girl?”

“Brooke.”

Gavin blinked. “Brooke. As in, Amandine’s best friend Brooke?”

“The one and only.”

“Huh. I never knew she was your type.”

Pete’s mouth twitched up at one corner. “What do you know about my type?”

“Tall? Blonde? Tits out to here?”

Yeah. Leggy Nordic types. Pete had dated them so he wouldn’t think of Brooke every time he looked across a dinner table. He checked a few things and shut down his laptop. “I’ve waited eight years to make my move.”

Gavin looked suitably impressed. “Sounds pretty serious. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

Brooke tossed another dress down on her bed. Good god, why was it so hard to pick out a decent outfit for a date? None of her clothes looked good enough for what she needed.