The Do-Over (2 page)

Brad reached for his wallet, took out a crisp bill, and threw it on the counter. Kyle waved his hand in objection, but Brad ignored it. “This is on me, but it’s time for you to pay up, brother.”

“I’ll take her out, but just once. I’m not running a charity here.”

“That’s all I ask, but be a nice guy, okay? She’s very shy and sensitive.”

“I’m always a nice guy.” Brad cocked his eyebrow, giving Kyle a doubtful look. “Fine, I’ll just pretend to be you then.” He understood why Brad thought he was disrespectful to women, but it was actually the opposite. Kyle respected women so much that he would never subject one to the turmoil of a relationship with him.

“Good idea,” Brad said, stepping off the stool.

The red-haired vixen sat forward in her chair, exposing her sizable cleavage as if she were displaying it just for Kyle. He nodded in appreciation, holding out his drink in a mock toast, and she crooked her finger toward him. Brad chuckled, reminding Kyle he was still there.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m meeting up with Cassie. I’ll text you Lanie’s number so you can give her a call. Tap the redhead before she starts stripping in here.”

Kyle laughed. It was funny how Brad could always tell what he was thinking.

Chapter Two

Lanie tried in vain to twist the last wayward strands of her rebellious curly hair into submission. For the fiftieth time that day, she considered canceling her date. It was a ridiculous idea, born out of the heart’s foolish desires, not the mind’s rational judgment. Brad had seen her reading Kyle Manchester’s article and mentioned they were best friends. It was one of the few conversations they’d shared that didn’t involve work or Cassie, so Lanie found herself talking about the ambitious journalist all the time. It wasn’t difficult since she read everything he wrote.

She had become a true fan after Kyle’s powerful editorial on the female sportscaster humiliated by five athletes while giving a locker-room interview. The men decided a woman had no business in their world, so they staged a protest of sorts where they strutted around her naked. The league suspended the players, resulting in a huge chauvinistic outcry that women didn’t belong in sports journalism, but Kyle Manchester had a different take. He asked his readers to imagine the sportscaster was their sister, who was being publicly reproached for doing her job. The article was strong enough to sway public opinion and made it clear that Kyle was a talented, passionate journalist.

Brad spoke of him with both affection and criticism, telling her funny stories from their childhood. He’d suggested the setup, misunderstanding that her interest was in the conversation, not the subject matter. Lanie was hesitant at first, but the more she thought of it, the more certain she was that asking Kyle Manchester for his help was the right thing to do.

As a lawyer, Lanie knew that what she lacked in people skills, she made up for in research and preparedness. This was no different. This wasn’t a date. It was a negotiation. It was imperative Lanie keep the upper hand with the tactical advantage of surprise. She’d practiced her presentation repeatedly, preparing for their meeting, although, when she had looked up Kyle’s profile on the newspaper’s Web site, she lost all her nerve again. She knew he was attractive from the small, grainy black-and-white photo on the newsprint, but that picture was an inadequate depiction compared to the full-size color photos of him. He was handsome, strikingly so, with jet-black hair that forked above his eyes as if drawing the observer to his deep emerald-green orbs. He had a mysterious if not mischievous smile, encompassing the traits of a dangerous man and an impish little boy at the same time. Even in his tailored suit, he appeared to be muscular, with a wide chest and robust arms. He could have been a model. He had the kind of face that commanded compensation simply for existing. It didn’t matter though, because she knew enough of Kyle to know that his journalistic integrity didn’t stretch into his personal life. Brad described him as a man-whore without hesitation, which in Lanie’s estimation meant Kyle wouldn’t have minded the moniker.

No, Kyle Manchester was definitely not the hero in Lanie’s story.

“Are you getting ready for your date?” Cassie asked, walking into Lanie’s room without knocking, as was her habit. Lanie felt a twinge of guilt with her sister’s presence, but she did her best to suppress it as she’d been doing all week. She silently cursed her hair again as strands escaped from the clip she’d chosen. She glanced at Cassie’s perfect ash-blonde locks, smooth and straight as pressed silk, and wondered again how she’d received all their mother’s flawless genes. It didn’t just stop at the hair. Cassie had deep blue eyes the color of lapis lazuli, a perfectly flat belly that wouldn’t yield an ounce fat even when pinched, and cheekbones that were so high they appeared suspended in perfect precision.

“Do I look okay?” As soon as she asked, Lanie felt like banging her forehead. She might as well have solicited a slap in the face.

Cassie walked around her, appraising her, like a lioness on the prowl, readying to attack. “I think you’re as good as you get.”

“Thanks, I guess.” For Cassie, it was a compliment. “Hey, I noticed your clothes in my closet again. I need the space, unless you’re giving them to me.”

Cassie laughed. “Besides my hair accessories, I doubt anything of mine would fit you.” Cassie considered mockery the best form of comedy, especially when it came to her sister. As usual, Lanie let it go. “My stuff’s only in there because I don’t have enough space. Why can’t we change rooms?”

Lanie sighed. They’d had this argument since Cassie had shown up on her doorstep broke and homeless six months ago, claiming she needed a place to stay for a few weeks. Lanie tried to encourage her to live with their mother, who no doubt would love to have her favorite daughter under her roof. Cassie shunned the idea immediately, stating she was too old to live off her mother. Funny, she found nothing odd in living off her sister. Lanie contemplated kicking her out but found it difficult. She loved her sister unconditionally, despite all her nastiness. She knew Cassie loved her too, if not unconditionally, then unconventionally—something Lanie had accepted a long time ago.

“We’ve been over this. This is my room as long as I’m paying the rent.”

“I help out,” Cassie said with her signature pout. If the measly sum that was barely enough to pay the cable bill could be considered helping out, then Cassie was right. Still, she did pay something, and it wasn’t like she could afford much more working part-time at a makeup store. “It’s so unfair that Phillip kicked me out. Men have such double standards. It’s not like he wasn’t cheating.”

Lanie turned to her sister, shocked to hear such a ludicrous statement even from her. “Cassie, he was cheating
with you
on his wife. It’s not a valid argument.”

“That’s my point. He was cheating on her, and I cheated on him. You’d think he’d forgive me. Plus, I know he was still fucking her, so in a way he was cheating on me too.”

Lanie shrugged, knowing it was useless to argue. The girl’s sense of entitlement cast a wider net than most CEOs’ golden parachutes. Lanie’s mother had insisted her father give both sisters the same amount in a trust fund, although, if her mother really had it her way, Lanie would have received nothing. Lanie used her funds for college and law school. Cassie spent her money on luxurious clothes, extravagant parties, and expensive trips. By the time Lanie graduated Harvard Law School, Cassie was penniless.

She’d spent the last few years searching for something…or rather someone to replace that missing income. Phillip seemed like the perfect man. He was rich, handsome, and most importantly, married. Like all her other jobs, Cassie only had to work part-time. He put her up in a lavish Lake Shore Drive apartment and provided her with an expensive car and a trainer who came three times a week to help her stay in shape. Unfortunately, Phillip decided to drop in on one of their exercise sessions, and even though the trainer was providing an intense workout, it was in no way related to Pilates.

“And my point is that you need to remove your items from my closet tonight.”

Cassie rolled her eyes but didn’t reply. “How much does Brad make?”

At the sound of Brad’s name, Lanie felt another stab of guilt penetrate her gut. Not for Cassie this time, but for Brad. She’d given Brad casual hints about Cassie’s past, but it was obvious he was too preoccupied with her good looks to notice anything else. Lanie decided it was best to let Brad find out on his own. Any more meddling from her would be construed as malicious and manipulative. Plus, she owed her sister that loyalty, and Lanie had no reason to believe Cassie was cheating on him…yet. No, Lanie would do what she did best. She’d fade into the background and wait.

“I have no idea. The firm frowns on any salary discussions, not that I would ask him.”

“Just tell me what you make then. It has to be similar.”

Lanie sighed. “I can’t do that either.” Lanie caught her voice wavering as she thought about Brad. It was funny how different he and Kyle were. Brad was traditionally handsome, beautiful even, with golden locks, twinkling blue eyes, and a smile that could disarm the most hostile judge. It was no wonder that he too would most likely make partner before the crucial seventh year, the year the firm usually awarded those honors.

“I told you what I make.”

Lanie stifled her laugh. Her sister’s employer advertised their hourly pay scale in the store window. It wasn’t exactly privileged information.

Cassie stood up and walked over to the dresser where Lanie’s laptop was set up. Lanie heard her gasp and winced because she knew what Cassie was looking at. “This is Kyle Manchester?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe I’ve never met him. He’s hot.”

“He’s very nice looking.”

“Too bad he’s Brad’s friend.”

Lanie turned to look at her sister, who was busy studying Kyle’s profile photos. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind working out with him,” Cassie said, turning to wink at Lanie.

“Brad is a very good man, Cassie.”

The smile slid off Cassie’s face, replaced by a glaring scowl. “Did I say he wasn’t?” she spat.

“It’s just you keep bringing up other men.”

“I’m just talking. That’s what girls do, Lanie, not that you’d know.” Cassie studied Kyle’s picture again, clicking on the other links in his profile. “Besides, journalists don’t make as much as lawyers, do they?”

Lanie knew this was Cassie’s attempt at gaining some insight into Brad’s salary again. “There are more important things than money.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You make a ton.” Cassie acted as if Lanie had been handed her job. It was funny since they’d both had the same opportunities. In fact, Cassie had a better childhood in many ways. But her sister enjoyed the role of victim. It was one she was destined to play.

“Enough to support us,” Lanie replied quietly. The sarcasm of the statement was lost on Cassie, who was too busy sulking.

“You’re making me feel guilty, and I came in here to help you.” Cassie was like a grenade with a precarious loose clip—always ready to go off. Brad hadn’t seen this side yet because she was good at hiding it, but it would come out eventually. Right now, Lanie needed to disengage the explosive before it detonated.

“If you really want to help me, can you do my hair?” Lanie asked with an apologetic smile.

Cassie strolled over to the vanity to place her dainty, perfectly manicured hand on Lanie’s shoulders. “I don’t have time, but I’m going to do you one better. I’ll give you some sisterly advice.” Lanie sucked in a deep breath, knowing what was coming. It was the same guidance she’d heard her whole life from her mother and Cassie. “You are a two.”

Lanie jerked her head in surprise. This was a new tactic. “A two?”

“Yes, a two on the looks scale.”

“So how would someone like me strive for a higher number?” Lanie knew where this was heading, but she was so used to it she treated it like a joke. It was too depressing to defend her physical appearance or get upset with Cassie. Her sister enjoyed those responses too much, so it just got easier to play along.

“That’s the issue, Lanie,” Cassie said as if Lanie were a small child incapable of understanding the mathematical difference between two and ten. “I see it every day at my job when women think a tube of lipstick or pressed powder will transform them. The bottom line is a two can become a three, maybe even a four, but a two will never be a ten.”

Lanie raised her eyebrows and tilted her head in a mock gesture of confusion. “And why is that?”

“Because tens are born, not made. I’m a ten, Brad’s a ten, and this Kyle Manchester is definitely a high ten, but you are not.”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I think you should cancel tonight, because if it’s one thing I’ve learned, a two will never catch a ten. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Lanie smiled with the fake sweetness she’d learned as a little girl, happy that Cassie’s advice had killed the last pangs of guilt and renewed her confidence in going through with the date. “Thanks for the advice. It’s really helped me make up my mind.”

Cassie mimicked Lanie’s smile, hugging her. “What are sisters for?”

Chapter Three

Kyle sat in a booth at Duggan’s waiting impatiently for Lanie Carmichael. The sooner she got here, the sooner this ordeal would be over. Kyle dreaded this meeting-slash-date, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. After all, she was a fan, and the evening might consist of her gushing and complimenting him. That would be enjoyable at least, and then he’d head over to the fiery redhead’s place after. Sarah or Suzie or something. He’d hit the jackpot with her. She was a yoga instructor and super flexible. It was too bad he’d have to stop answering her texts soon. She was already looking at him with those “let’s nest” eyes. It was a shame since he’d only slept with her twice. He bet Lanie would look at him with those eyes on first sight.

He winced when he saw the tall, frumpy woman looking around the room.
Please, don’t be Lanie Carmichael
. A tall blonde in a miniskirt bumped her and headed his way. Thank God Brad is a true friend, Kyle thought. The blonde returned his smile, but instead of taking a seat, she walked right past him. Kyle followed her path, enjoying the view but also mourning it. He turned back to see Tall Frumpy taking slow, steady steps toward him and smiling idiotically. She was dressed in an ill-fitting beige suit made up of so many layers Kyle wondered if he could even accurately guess her bra size. Probably an A or maybe B. She had on a navy coat in a man’s cut. Underneath the coat, there appeared to be a mock turtleneck, a vest, a blazer, and the most matronly skirt he’d ever seen, all in various shades of beige. Her heels even looked orthopedic if that was possible. She stood in front of him, holding out her hand like a panting puppy wanting to be petted.