Winter's Kiss
“Really, Oakes, thank you,” she said, sipping her orange juice. He’d poured her more coffee and had the cream and sugar on the counter. “You’re so sweet to take care of me this morning and for not kicking me out last night.”
“We’re family.”
She squeezed her glass. Hard. They weren’t family. Yes, yes, they had similar relatives but they were not related. Not in any way, shape or form. “You had every right to tell me to get lost,” she said, wanting him to say something, anything, that would give her some hope, some idea that he felt what she felt. That he, too, wanted to take a chance on whatever this was between them. “No one would have blamed you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure Zach would agree with you on that.”
And that was not what she’d had in mind.
Zach. Right. The brother they shared. The bane of her existence and, she was fairly certain, the reason Oakes had yet to make a move on her. It was a tricky situation, undoubtedly. Oakes’s father, the very wealthy, very powerful Clinton Bartasavich, Sr. had four sons: Clinton, Jr. and Kane, both with his first wife; Oakes with Rosalyn, his second wife; and Zach with Susan, who’d been Oakes’s nanny at the time of the affair.
Rosalyn had eventually divorced Senior, after ten years and numerous infidelities on his part. She’d remarried and had two younger sons. Susan, too, had moved on, marrying Michael Lynch. And having Daphne.
Yes, sir. Tricky, tricky, tricky.
“I don’t think even Zach could blame you if you’d turned me away,” Daphne said to Oakes, although her brother did have a sanctimonious and judgmental streak, especially when it came to her. And a major stick up his butt when it came to the Bartasavich side of his family. “I mean, I did show up at your house in the middle of the night, drunk.”
Oakes lifted a shoulder. Always a good guy, he didn’t seem to want her gratitude. “It’s no big deal.” He turned, grinned at her. “Livened up my night, that was for sure.”
She stared at her spoon, concentrated on stirring and stirring and stirring her coffee. Cleared her throat. “Yes, well, I shouldn’t have done it.” Especially now that she realized she could have easily interrupted something. What if he’d had a woman over? He’d been seeing Sylvie Green the past few weeks. Sylvie, with her shiny, golden hair and tiny waist. What if she’d been here, in his house, in his bed, when Daphne showed up?
She wasn’t sure she could have handled that, not in her inebriated state.
Ah, the clarity of sobriety. Too little, too late.
“Anyway, I really appreciate you taking me in,” she continued, the thought of him being with Sylvie making her sound less grateful and more annoyed. “It meant a lot to me.”
“Like I said, I couldn’t turn you away.”
No, he couldn’t. Not Oakes. Hadn’t she counted on that, realized that even while drunk? He’d never do anything to hurt anyone.
“I’m still not sure how you ended up here, though,” he said. “You said you wanted to see me.”
Pretending it took all her concentration, she sipped her coffee. Had she said that? Well, at least she hadn’t told him the real reason she’d come here—to declare what could possibly be her undying love for him.
Yay. One point for self-control.
“Did I?” she asked with what she hoped was casual curiosity. She forced a light laugh. “I must have really been out of it. The last thing I remember clearly was getting in the cab and telling the driver to bring me here as it was closer and I didn’t think I’d make it home without passing out.”
Lies, lies, horrible lies to protect herself, to save her from complete and utter humiliation.
He looked as if he was about to call her on her fibs when there was a knock on the door. “That must be the food,” he said, heading to answer it.
Thank God. She gulped more caffeine. Blurting out that she loved him and wanted them to be together didn’t seem like such a hot idea in the cold, harsh light of day. But she wasn’t ready to go back to how they’d always been, either. For years she’d told herself that what she felt for Oakes was nothing more than infatuation. The remnants of a childhood crush.
But what if it wasn’t? Surely a crush wouldn’t have lasted this long.
She still thought of him often. Too often. Her heart tripped when she received a call or text from him. If they went too long between visits or chats she missed him. And when something happened in her life, good or bad, he was the first person she thought of telling, the person she wanted to share the news with more than anyone else.
She’d told herself to just get over it, to get over him already. Had tried to push her feelings aside. It wasn’t as if she sat around waiting for him to notice her. She’d gotten her undergraduate degree and was now in grad school. She’d dated other men, had even had a short-lived engagement that had ended six months ago.
And when those relationships ended, she found herself right back to square one. Thinking about Oakes. Wondering if he was the one for her.
She used to believe that if she and Oakes were meant to be, they’d end up together no matter what directions life took them in.
Now, though, she wasn’t so sure letting fate lead the way was the best idea. What if this was their opportunity? She was single and Oakes and Sylvie had only gone out a few times so they weren’t serious. Her drunken epiphany last night just might have been destiny’s way of giving her a good swift kick in the rear and telling her to take charge.
She had to be smart here, though. Had to try and figure out what Oakes thought about her, about them, before giving away too many of her own thoughts, her own feelings.
He was too honorable to make the first move. He probably thought she was too young for him. And he wouldn’t want to rock the boat where their families were concerned. Yes, it would take Zach, and their mothers, time to get used to the idea of them being together, but they’d all just have to deal. She’d been waiting six long years for Oakes to notice her as something other than Zach’s younger sister and a friend.
It was time he noticed her as a woman.
She had to ease him into the idea of being with her. Get him to think it was the best idea ever.
Mainly, she had to let him think it was his idea. She knew all about men and how sensitive they were about being led to do something. He had to take the lead.
With some encouragement from her, of course.
“Here we are,” he said, after shutting the door. He held up a large bag with the diner’s logo on it. “Best breakfast this side of Houston.”
“Let me help you.” She slid to her feet, crossed to him in what she hoped was a slow, seductive sashay and not a clumpy, eager gallop. But damn it, she was starving and the food smelled really, really good. She took the bag, waved him back to his seat. “The least I can do is dish this out. And I hope you’ll let me pay for it and whatever the cab cost.”
“My treat and so was the cab ride.” He grinned down at her, teasing and friendly. “But maybe next time you go out, you shouldn’t spend all your money on drinks.”
And the last thing she wanted was for him to look at her that way, as if she was some cute kid sister who’d gotten herself into a jam. “I didn’t spend all my money on drinks. I switched purses before we left and my wallet wouldn’t fit in my smaller one. I thought I’d grabbed my credit card and a fifty but my cousins were rushing me and I’d only put a ten in there along with my grocery store’s rewards club card. Luckily, my cousins insisted on paying for dinner—as they should since they kidnapped me and all.”
“How did you pay for your drinks then?”
“I didn’t.”
He followed her back to the counter, though he wouldn’t let her take the bag. He set it down and faced her. “You have generous cousins. They must have really wanted to make sure you had a good time.”
She laughed. “They can be generous, and they paid for a few rounds for all of us, but they weren’t the only ones buying me drinks last night.”
“They weren’t?”
She smiled. Maybe she could get a reaction out of him after all. “No. There were some very sweet men there who insisted on supplying me with beverages.”
He blinked. Blinked again. “You let some strange guy buy your drinks?”
She pursed her lips. “Actually, it was two guys. Strangers, yes, but I don’t think they were strange. Christopher was really funny and Ray had that whole bad-boy vibe going on, which made the night interesting.”
Oakes frowned, his eyes narrowed and she wondered if it was too soon to assume he was jealous, or if he was thinking of her with those other guys—not both at once, of course—when she could be with him.
“You shouldn’t accept drinks from strangers at bars,” he said, sounding irritated—very unlike easygoing Oakes. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”
“Not in so many words.” Her mother knew she was capable of taking care of herself.
“I’m sure Zach warned you about it,” Oakes continued, not like a jealous man at all, but more like a lecturing teacher.
Or big brother.
“Men who buy women drinks at bars,” he continued in a voice way too similar to her freshman year lit professor’s superior tone, “do it for one reason and one reason only.”
“Really?” Setting her elbows on the counter, she cupped her chin in her hand and stared at him wide-eyed. “Do tell.”
His frown deepened. “They see you looking like...” He waved a hand at her, going up and down as if to take in her entire person. “That,” he finally said. “And they want to take you home.”
She blinked, slowly and with great exaggeration. “Whatever for?”
He looked so uncomfortable, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “You know what for.”
“A complete innocent like me?” she asked, hand to her chest. “Why, I haven’t a clue.”
“Sex,” he growled from between his teeth. “They’re hoping you’ll sleep with them.”
“No. That thought never crossed my mind. Thank God I have you here to set me straight on the nefarious ways of men in clubs.” She rolled her eyes. “It may come as a shock to you, but I’m not a child. I’ve gone out to clubs and bars before.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward. “I’ve even had sex before.”
He stepped back so quickly, he almost tripped over the stool behind him. “That’s... I don’t need to know...you don’t...”
She smiled. How could she not? He looked so horrified, but that wasn’t all. He looked...stunned. As if the thoughts of her and sex had never coexisted in his mind before. But then she looked closer, saw a definite heat in his eyes behind the panic, and she wondered if maybe, just maybe, that heat wasn’t the reason for the panic.
Maybe he didn’t see her as just a friend or some sort of little sister after all.
Only one way to find out.
She moved closer. “I know exactly why those guys bought me drinks, what they were hoping to get from me. But I choose who I go home with. Who I sleep with, share my body with.” At her words, his eyes dropped and raked over her body, before his jaw clenched and he yanked up his gaze once again. “I didn’t go home with any of those men, didn’t want to go with them. I came here. I came to you.”
CHAPTER THREE
I CAME HERE. I came to you.
The words hit Oakes like a punch. Like the answer to a prayer, one he’d never been brave enough to say, let alone think about.
He was in serious trouble here. Because he was taking what she’d surely meant to be innocent words as some sort of overture. He was a man well used to women coming on to him. His looks helped, but he knew part of his appeal was his last name—at least before those women got a chance to know him. He also knew when a woman was tossing the ball in his court, giving him an opening, a chance to make a move.
And he wanted, badly, to do just that. To make a move on Daphne, to see how those curves felt pressed against him, how that mouth would taste.
He was wrong. He had to be. There’s no way she was coming on to him. Daphne was his friend. Sort of. But more than that, more important than that, she was Zach’s sister.
He gave her an awkward, brotherly pat on her shoulder. “I’m glad I could help. And that you had the good sense not to go home with some stranger.”
Was it his imagination or did she look disappointed by his response? He couldn’t analyze it, was afraid if he did, he’d come to a conclusion he didn’t like. One that was purely a figment of his imagination.
“Ready to eat?” he asked, desperate to get back on solid ground with her.
As if the moment had never happened, she smiled. “Yes, please. I am starving.”
He pulled the boxes out of the bag while she refreshed their coffee. He tried not to take in how good she looked in his kitchen, that red dress like a beacon calling his attention again and again. How comfortable she was here, barefoot in his house, all bright and cheerful as she chatted about some dessert she’d had last night.
He let her talk wash over him as he folded the bag and set it with the recycling. He had to get a grip. Yes, he found Daphne attractive. He was a man, wasn’t he? And she was, well...she was Daphne. All curves and subtle sensuality. She was also smart and funny and full of energy. Last night when she’d been asleep on his couch was the first time he could remember seeing her so still. She always seemed amped up, lit up from some internal light, an inner spark.
But she was Zach’s sister. Zach Castro, the only one of Oakes’s brothers who kept him at arm’s length. The man who was recovering from injuries sustained while serving with the marines in Iraq.
The only Bartasavich son not to take their father’s name, who’d been raised as much as possible away from his older brothers. Zach had spent his entire life making his resentment toward his father and the rest of his family perfectly clear.
Not that Oakes could blame him. None of them could say they were close to their father. Clinton Bartasavich, Sr. wasn’t an easy man to get to know or to love. In his younger years he’d been all about power and increasing his wealth. As the company that had been in his family for generations had grown, so had Senior’s ego and his unhappiness with his personal life. Always searching for the next best thing, he cheated on his first wife—C.J. and Kane’s mother—with Oakes’s mother, taking advantage of her young age and adoration of him. That marriage, too, eventually failed after Senior’s numerous affairs.
“I owe you for this,” Daphne said, setting his coffee cup in front of him. “How about I take you to dinner next weekend?”
Have dinner with her, just the two of them? Yes, they ate out together, but usually coffee or lunch. Quick, casual meals that had a set time limit, and were held in open, bright and airy places surrounded by noise and people. But dinner was different. It was too dangerous. Too close to a date.
He tried to avoid this exact scenario with her as much as possible—had done so for the last few years, ever since he’d noticed she wasn’t a little girl anymore. “There’s no need. I’m happy to help. We’re family, after all.”
“You keep saying that,” she said, opening the takeout box he’d given her, “but we’re not.”
“I feel like we are,” he insisted, needing her to understand where he stood. She’d had a crush on him as a teenager, around the time he’d finished law school, and he didn’t want a repeat of the awkward, uncomfortable experience they’d shared back then.
Zach had asked Oakes to look in on her and their mother while he was serving overseas and, as it was the first and only time Zach had ever asked him for anything, Oakes had been more than happy to do his younger brother a favor. And things had been fine until Daphne graduated from high school. But after that she took every opportunity to flirt with him—touching his arm or leg, flipping her hair and batting her eyes.
He’d been horrified. She was a child and he an adult. Thank God she’d gotten over it when she started college, but for a few months, it’d been torture.
Mainly because, as much as he hated to admit it, he’d found her attractive, too.
It had killed him that he’d allowed his baser instincts to get the better of him. That he’d been just like his father. He hadn’t acted on his feelings, of course, but that hadn’t made him feel any better. So he’d avoided her as much as possible and by the time they’d met up for coffee over Thanksgiving break during her freshman year at Rice, things between them were normal again.
They’d become friends and he didn’t want to lose that friendship just because he was having some inappropriate, yet purely physical and normal, feelings toward her. It was simple science, really. She was a smart, beautiful, sexy woman.
And he was just a man.
She opened her breakfast and frowned down at the dry toast and scrambled eggs. “What’s this?”
“I thought you might want something bland. To settle your stomach.”
She eyed his omelet, loaded with cheese, peppers and sausage. “Why would I want something bland?”
“For your hangover. And you should drink more,” he said, nodding toward the bottle of water he’d set by her elbow. “It’ll help with the headache.”
She laughed, the sound light and sunny. “Please. I’m Irish-Mexican. You insult my ancestors by such slander. I’m not hungover. I can handle my alcohol. I just...shouldn’t have handled quite so much of it last night.” She shoved her food aside and pulled his plate closer to her. Dug into his omelet. “Mmm...good, but needs hot sauce.”
And she hopped down. He couldn’t help but notice her dress riding up a bit so he turned his attention to his breakfast. Sighed, then switched it with hers.
Although he did scoop some of the hash browns onto his plate.
She came back, added enough hot sauce to her food to get his eyes watering—and he wasn’t even eating it—then tucked in to her meal as if she feared it’d disappear if she didn’t shovel it into her mouth as quickly as possible.
“That last shot of tequila hadn’t been such a good idea,” she said around a mouthful. She wrinkled her nose. “Well, the last two shots, really. Hindsight and all that, you know? Just once, I’d like to have a bit of foresight. An inner sense of worry or a niggling of doubt that warned me the wonderful, brilliant plan that popped into my head was really only misery in the making. Some sort of sixth sense to stop me from following said course. One to give me a moment’s pause, time to sort through all my options and work out what I should do next. That would be wonderful and, I imagine, come in quite handy.”
“You wouldn’t listen to it,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t like being told what to do. By anyone. Not even yourself. It’s one of your flaws.” He softened his words with a wink.
“I prefer to think of it as an independent streak. But you’re right. I wouldn’t have listened to any inner sense telling me not to drink, but I may have at least limited myself to two margaritas. Three, tops.”
Margaritas, too? He wasn’t even going to ask how many she’d had. “Sounds like you had a busy night. What with those men buying you drinks and all. But you still didn’t have to accept them,” he pointed out. “Unless they poured the alcohol down your throat?”
“Nothing like that. But they were nice. And it would’ve been rude to decline, right? Anyway, the only reason they were buying drinks was because of this dress. If I’d showed up in jeans and a T-shirt without the makeup, they wouldn’t even have noticed me.”
He doubted that. But she was right about the dress. She looked all curvy and soft in that little bit of silk. “We men are but simple creatures.”
“No kidding.” She poured the entire container of syrup over the half stack of pancakes he’d been looking forward to. “That’s why we womenfolk love you guys so much.”
He used his fork to slide a pancake from the bottom of the pile onto his plate. “We aim to please. So tell me...” he said, wondering about something he hadn’t yet gotten a clear answer on—a question that had become extremely important to him. Or at least, her answer to it had. “Why did you come here? And before you tell me it was only to use the bathroom or because it was closer and you were too tired to sit in the back of a cab for the ride to your place, remember I am an attorney and therefore have learned how to spot lies.”
Picking up a piece of toast, she avoided his eyes. “You want the truth?”
“That would be an interesting twist to this entire experience.”
She nodded. “Okay, here it is. I came here for you.”
* * *
DAPHNE NIBBLED ON a triangle of toast as Oakes stared at her, mouth open, eyes wary. Huh. Not so thrilled with the truth now, was he?
“What do you mean?” he asked, brave man that he was. But he looked as if he was bracing himself for her answer.
He wasn’t doing much for her ego.
He’d said he wanted the truth and she’d given it to him, but now one of life’s greatest, deepest and hardest to answer questions played in her mind.
Continue with that whole honesty thing or...?
Or lie like a dog on a hot summer’s day?
She set down her toast. Yeah. She was going with option number two. Though she wasn’t against combining the truth and a lie for something in between. It was easier to keep track of a fib if you threw a bit of fact in there as well.
“Let me tell you a story,” she began.
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m going to need more coffee for this,” he muttered as if listening to one of her entertaining tales was some hardship.
“Hey,” she said as he stood up, handing him her cup to refill as well. “I’ll have you know my stories are very well told.”
“They are,” he agreed, pouring coffee into their cups and rejoining her. “They’re also long. And are filled with repetitive, and at times, irrelevant information.”
She waved that away. “Now, don’t get all lawyerly on me. No one likes that. Sit back and relax and drink your coffee. You wanted to know why I came here, but before I can get to that part, I have to start at the beginning.”
“I already know all that. Your cousins tricked you into going out to dinner then forced you to go to a club where several men—”
“Several? I’m flattered. But it was only the two.”
“Where two men vied for your attention—”
She snorted. “Believe me, it wasn’t my attention they were vying for.”
He frowned and she noticed his fingers had gone white on his cup. She hid a smile behind her own mug as she lifted it to take a sip.
“You got drunk,” he continued in what she assumed must be his professional voice. Laying out the facts as he knew them in a deep baritone. “The cousins who took you to said club all left you alone to your own devices. You had enough sense to get a cab, but had to go to the bathroom and didn’t want to travel the distance from the club to your apartment so you, in a moment of clarity, gave him my address. Have I summed up your previous statement clearly?”
She blinked. God, but he was so freaking cute with his courtroom tone and wide shoulders. Smart, funny and good-looking. Was it any wonder she was stuck on him?
“That was very concise and, yes, that is accurate,” she said, turning to face him then crossing her legs. His gaze dropped, briefly, to the movement before he brought his attention back to her face. “But what I didn’t tell you was the reason my cousins got it into their tiny brains that I needed a night on the town, one that preferably ended with wild, kinky sex with a stranger.”
“Your cousins wanted you to hook up with a stranger?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Well, not all of them. Two were for, two were against. Nadine and Steph were hoping I’d meet my soul mate. But they all agreed that I needed a night out, that I needed to put myself out there.”
“Because?”
This was the tricky part. The embarrassing part. “They think I’m heartbroken over Ricky.”
“Ricky? As in your ex-boyfriend?”
“Ex-fiancé,” she corrected primly. They may not have been engaged all that long but he had proposed and she had worn the diamond he’d given her. That made him her fiancé—even if only for a few short months. “He’s back in town.”