Page 15 of Playing for Keeps

Before I could press down, a loud buzz echoed through the room.

“All done,” Aaron called. The door to the dryer opened and slammed shut, and soon my sweater and pants were draped over the stall door. I tugged them into the stall and clutched them to me even as I started pulling them on, allowing their heat to warm my chilled skin. I tossed my phone back into my purse and slipped the strap over my shoulder, then took a calming breath before I exited the stall. Aaron was holding the hairdryer out to me with a warm smile on his face.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the dryer from his outstretched hand and walking toward the sinks. I smoothed my hair with my fingers as the hot air blew across my long, dark locks. When I looked presentable, I turned off the dryer and returned it to Aaron.

He stood there, staring at me, that same mischief in his eyes. “Beautiful,” he told me as he tugged a strand of my hair between his thumb and finger. “You don’t look like a drowned rat anymore.”

“I should hope not,” I said, laughing as I rolled my eyes at him.

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”

He led me back to the elevator, and I turned our previous conversation back to him. “So, action and intrigue. What else is there?”

Aaron chuckled and glanced up toward the ceiling. “Lived here all my life. And marketing.”

“Marketing? At Guardian?” I asked, my brows raising as he nodded in response. “You know Kelly O’Connor?”

Recognition flickered in his eyes, and he nodded his head as he said, “Jen, the roommate. I’ve heard about you.”

“All good, I hope.”

“Pssh, have you ever known Kelly to say a bad word about anyone?”

I shrugged and tugged my purse up on my shoulder. “I have. But it’s rare. What’s she said?”

Aaron glanced down at his shoes and rubbed the toe of one into the thin, gray-speckled carpet. “You met at college, helped her out by moving in with her when you took this job.” He peeked up at me. “You may or may not be the little sister of a certain major league baseball star.”

I didn’t bother to stop the grimace that flashed across my face. “Does everyone know?”

“Nah,” he said, giving me a handsome smile. “She’s pretty close-lipped about it.”

“Good.”

He leaned back against the wall and looked me over. “You don't like him?”

“What? No!” My voice was too loud, I realized, when Aaron winced in response. I lowered my volume as I continued, “I love my brother. He’s one of my best friends. It’s just...”

My thoughts drifted. To the heartache I’d lived with the past year. To the fear I had of losing my brother, to being thrust into a world so far from where I came from, it was like none of it was real. But it was real. So very real. And the pain flickering through my heart wouldn’t let me forget that.

Aaron watched me intently, waiting for me to go on. I didn’t know how long I stood there like a silent fool. I shook my head to try to clear the reminders like cobwebs from my brain.

“This past year has been tough, you know? With everything that’s happened. I don't want people thinking that’s me.”

“Tough family to marry into.”

“Right? It’s so messed up.”

Aaron shook his head and stepped closer to me, one eyebrow raised and eyes gleaming. He brushed a strand of my hair off my shoulder. “I wouldn't say that too loud. You know Leonetti Holdings owns the building, don't you?”

My response was smothered by the barrage of thoughts that hit me. My mind jumped from one conclusion to the next without giving anything enough time to sink in. I ran as far away from the Leonetti family as I could get, leaving the city once my brother was well enough not to need me by his side. Life in my parents’ home was more simple. Safer.

Lonelier.

Now I was back. Back in the city where my brother lived. Back near the man I ripped my own heart out to run away from. And apparently, working in a building owned by the very family I blamed for nearly taking my brother away from me.

“Come on, drowned rat.” Aaron’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts as his fingers tugged at my hand. I was off the elevator before I realized it, being dragged through aisles of blue-gray cubicles as fast as my high heels would let me.

A small group of people were standing at the end of the aisle, and half of them turned in our direction as we approached. One man stepped through the crowd, his starched white button-up open at the collar and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. His thin-rimmed black glasses matched his fine black pants, and a thin shadow of dark brown hair covered his angled jaw.