Page 54 of Lucky Puck

She scoffs. “You didn’t think I’d be staying with a pair of newlyweds, did you? I’m booked at the hotel next to the arena. Did you get me tickets for tomorrow night’s game?”

“Tickets? Plural?” He raises a brow. “You have a date?”

She swats his arm, and we naturally move to the kitchen, his arm still around me, still feeling protective.

“Of course not. You think I’d bring a date anywhere near you?”

“Then who?” He pours her the last of the champagne, and she takes it with a mysterious smile. I tense up, and Brody pulls me tighter. It’s like we’re communicating without speaking, without even looking at each other, and I immediately relax.

“A surprise.” She glances at me for a flicker, then shrugs. “I wanted to test the veracity of your sudden marriage, so I invited your kryptonite for a visit—none other than the seductress from your past, Nora Shade.”

The speed at which Brody’s body turns into something more resembling a block of ice than the hot-blooded man I know stuns me, and I flash my eyes to find his, alarms of all kinds setting off protective instincts that go way beyond our client-agent relationship. Who is this woman—seductress from his past?

His face is a cold mask, and Kara looks away, waving a hand. “It’s alright, I can tell her you couldn’t get her a ticket. Sorry⁠—”

“No. Go ahead. Bring her on. It’s about time we had closure.”

“If you’re going to be mean and treat her like shit⁠—”

“You mean the way she treated me? No. I’m an adult now. I know how to behave civilly. Besides,” he glances down, meeting my puzzled frown, and I don’t try to hide my concern because my internal alarms are still screaming Danger, Will Robinson! Okay, so I’m a nerd and I’ve binge-watched Lost in Space when I’m on the road and alone.

His lips curve in a wolfish smile like he can read my mind as he adds, “I have Bianca, and I wouldn’t disrespect her by misbehaving in any way.”

That’s one loaded claim that I can read to mean that he’s not going to ravage me later. Slight disappointment accompanies that interpretation. Or I could read it to mean that he wouldn’t dream of looking at his old seductress because he has me. I like this version better.

Kara nods, wearing a circumspect expression. “Good to hear, little bro.” She turns to me. “Don’t mind the sibling drama—ignore it. We’ll have fun at the game. You, me, and Nora.” She smiles, and I’m not sure if it’s real—or maybe now she’s testing me instead of her brother.

Brody tightens his grip and nuzzles my hair, dipping his head lower. “That okay with you, honeybuns?”

I nod. “Yeah. Of course. It’ll be fun.” I nod some more and go into my positive thinking training, faking it 'til I make it, willing it to be all good. I can handle it—Nora is Brody’s enemy, and I’ll protect him from any evil intent. That’s my job, same as if she were an unsavory promoter trying to take advantage.

“Then it’s settled.” Kara lifts her glass in a one-person toast of champagne and drains her glass. “Well, I need to get going. I’m meeting Nora for dinner tonight.” She winks at Brody. “Stay out of trouble, little B.”

He gives her the finger, warmed by a sincere grin, and she leaves, the energy of her perfectly sculpted athletic grace impacting me as I watch until the door closes behind her.

“Wow.” The word pops out spontaneously, and I stop myself from apologizing, but I can’t stop the blush as heat rises to my cheeks. I need to keep control over what I say and do every minute of every day from now on—or at least for the next few weeks while we carry on this charade. Shit.

“She is something.”

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend or a fiancée or⁠—”

“Nope. Heaven help any guy who tries to⁠—”

“Why? What are you going to do about it?”

He laughs. “Me? Sure, I’ll put the screws to him along with my two brothers and dad, work him over until he’s either ready to run or he’s hopelessly gone for her. But what the guy who wins her over is really going to need help with is her. She’s what they call a piece of work.”

I nod. “I can see that.” What I’m thinking is that Brody is an even piecey-er piece of work than his sister, and he doesn’t even realize it.

“I’m starved. How about you?”

“Yes. Food.” I love food, and I’m unreasonably happy about having the delectable excuse of eating to distract us for a big chunk of the evening—the rest of the night if I’m lucky. There’s always dessert, right? Then I blush spontaneously because in my head I reinterpret dessert to its carnal meaning as Brody opens a drawer and takes out a stack of paper menus.

“Every take-out menu from within ten miles. Whatever you want. The choice is yours.”

“How magnanimous of you.” I want to tell him I’ll go food shopping and cook for him, but I know it’s too much. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. Consoling myself with the prospect of cooking for Brody Holden in the near future because there’s no way I can live on take-out alone, I peruse the menus.

We decide on Italian, and he over-orders by a magnitude of a party of six. Or at least that’s what I thought, but as we sit at the kitchen counter surrounded by an array of open plastic containers, mostly empty, I’m impressed with his appetite—and chagrined at mine because I couldn’t resist the temptation, not even to make a good, if false impression on Brody.