Four

Ethan

“Why exactly are we turning my kitchen into a war zone?” And that wasn’t an understatement. There were vegetables piled at one end of the counter and flour, eggs, meat and hard cheeses at the other end. It looked like a gourmet market had thrown up all over my blue granite countertops.

“Because we are cooking real food with raw ingredients. And talking.”

I groaned because I knew my luck couldn’t possibly hold forever but I had hope. “So soon?”

“It’s been nearly two weeks Ethan. You’re more stubborn than I thought, I’ll give you credit for that.” She had a smudge of flour on her cheek from her first failed attempt at making pasta. It had gone terribly wrong, but she was so funny with her sweetly spoken curse words and nonstop laughter, taking everything in stride. “So, we’ll talk. About any and everything while we cook. And eat,” she giggled a little as she said it. I swear no woman I ever met took as much pleasure in eating at this one. “Do this and I’ll give you the whole weekend to yourself.”

That didn’t sound as appealing as it should have, dammit. We were only two weeks in and I liked spending time with her, which made me wonder even more if she was running some sort of scam. “So, what are we making other than pasta?”

“Lobster filling for the ravioli and a creamy Parm sauce. Salad and roast chicken. Oh, and I brought cheesecake from a really great bakery.” She smiled bright and I swear to god it made her eyes sparkle—no, glitter. They glittered like emeralds. So fucking distracting I hardly noticed the dress she wore. White and see through enough I could tell she wore very little underneath. It was floor length as most of her skirts and dresses were, but it hugged her curves like a lover and my hands itched to touch her.

“So what you’re saying is prepare myself for a lot of talking?”

She laughed and the sound was sweet and full of good humor, not practiced or fake. “Don’t sound so put out about it, I promise it will be mostly pain free.”

“Yeah?” She nodded but I didn’t believe her. This was why I didn’t go to shrinks, they made you do all the talking while they sat there. Judging. “Then tell me about you. Where are you from and what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done? Do you have siblings? What do you do in between clients?”

She didn’t seem to be put out by my questions or their grumpy tone as she broke apart lobster shells and I thought maybe she’d ignore my questions. Then she sighed and I smiled in victory. “I’m from Champaign, Illinois where my dad is a professor of U of I. The most embarrassing thing I have ever done, would have to be running and screaming from a threesome at two in the morning. I am an only child and when I’m not with a client, I travel, go on adventures or whatever else strikes my fancy.” With all the lobster in a bowl she began chopping bits of this and that before she turned to me. “Good?”

“Uh, yeah.” I went back to chopping vegetables, feeling a little less wary about talking. “Pretty good, yeah.” I waited for her to ask her question but she didn’t. The silence stretched for so damn long I thought maybe she’d forgotten that we were supposed to be talking. Finally, I gave in. “You’ve met Jax but there’s also Roc, he’s the oldest.”

Green eyes rounded in surprise. “You’re the small one in the family? You Mahoney boys grow big, don’t you?” She laughed and another flash of surprise showed in her eyes but she wasn’t at all apologetic, at least not judging by her defiant grin. “Man, your mom must have had her hands full with you three.”

I swallowed, ignoring the tightness in my chest that always came when I thought about my parents. “I was four when she died.” I didn’t remember as much as Jax and Roc but I missed her as if I’d known her for decades.

Misha’s gasp was so real I knew she hadn’t done any research on me or my family online, because no article or video ever forgot to mention it. “I’m so sorry Ethan. I lost my mom when I was twelve.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. It’s been me and my dad ever since. I finally convinced him to start dating about six months ago,” she smiled and rolled her eyes affectionately that spoke of their close bond. “He was so awkward and uncomfortable with online dating but damn, he was so adorable. Then there was this incident of a sexual nature and I thought he might give it up forever, which is weird considering he is a world-famous expert on human sexuality.” She turned her green gaze on me, piercing and intense. “But you know what? As soon as word got around on campus that he was dating again, he had more offers than he knew what to do with. And , he’s been dating two of them. Exclusively, whatever that means,” she rolled her eyes again.

“Thank you,” I told her because what the hell else could I say after all that. Misha knew how to share, how to give pieces of herself to others. I didn’t. “Both of my parents died at the same time, same crash. Our Uncle Noah raised us.”

She snapped her fingers and grinned. “Is that the old dude you’re always photographed with? Kind of a silver fox?”

I frowned and felt unease drip down my spine. “I thought you didn’t look me up online. If you had you’d know all this already.”

Misha shrugged. “I did do an image search of you because I wanted to see if I could see whatever has been bothering you.” Her eyes were filled with concern, like she really wanted to help. “I noticed that in many photos there was an older gentleman with silver hair and I wondered who he was to you.” She covered a bowl and stuck it in the fridge before turning to something else. “I don’t like to do recon on my clients beyond knowing the basics because I want to get to know you through you. Not the filter of a reporter who needs to sell papers.”

Sounded good. But… “So, I have to believe you’re really my friend for this to work?” I knew I sounded like a skeptical asshole but I couldn’t help it.

“Not necessarily, no. But we will by friends by the time we say goodbye to one another Ethan. I’ll be honest and open with you and I hope you’ll do the same.”

I didn’t believe we’d be friends, not when she was paid to be here and produce results. But I couldn’t deny that I felt more relaxed lately. All the time with Misha helped me relax enough to sleep a few hours without waking up. “I guess we’ll see when we get there.” Her only response was a sly smile and a small shrug as we finished up prep work. We took salad, wine and cheese to the table while the food cooked.

“It’s too bad the pasta didn’t come out, but I love stuffed shells oozing with cheese!” She sat and poured the wine, still smiling as I decided where to sit. “To new friends and better days ahead.”

“To new friends and better days,” I clinked our glasses and took a long, fortifying sip. “I guess what you really want to know is why I snapped on the sainted Samantha Stevens the way I did?”

She shook her head. “I know why you did it. What I would like to know is, what made that day the one you snapped?”

I grinned. “You know why? Are you psychic?”

She laughed and took another sip. “I wish.” With a long sigh, she explained. “Her question triggered some painful memory for you, which has to do with why you started your company, and though you answer the question all the time, this time you didn’t want to. I’d like to know why. If you know,” she added without a hint of sarcasm.

Damn she was good. Even I hadn’t thought of it like that, but now it seemed so obvious. “I’ve been over it a thousand times and there was nothing special about that day.”

“Hm. Okay.” She reached for the cheese and sliced it, biting into it with a moan. “Want some?”

I shook my head. “You do know that cheese comes from cows, right? Who have been pumped full of hormones? And that milk is addictive so that calves will keep coming back and help the species survive?”

She picked up the wedge and sank her teeth into the entire thing. “So that’s a no to the cheese?” She shook her head at my frustrated groan. “What’s it like spending so much of your life thinking about dying?”

“I don’t.”

“Sure you do. I understand the health risks of certain foods so I exercise and keep active, making sure I eat some raw veggies. But I don’t obsess.”

“Neither do I.”

“No need to get angry. Death comes for us all eventually and I’d like to experience everything I can before it comes knocking on my door.”

I didn’t have that luxury. “Yeah well you won’t say that when too much of one of those things kills you.” I knew all too well the hazards of enjoying life to the fullest.

“I don’t do drugs so I’m not that concerned. Other than the occasional cocktail and a few hits of Mary Jane, I’m chemical free.”

I frowned. “That’s a drug.”

“Pot isn’t a real drug, and anyway I said things I wanted to do, not every damn thing on the planet. I swam with sharks and I’ve had champagne on top of the Eiffel Tower, cruised on a gondola in Venice and went bungee jumping in Nevada. I want to see the Great Barrier Reef, swim with dolphins and spend a month on a deserted island. I might get to do it all before I die and I might not. But I’ll do my damnedest not to have any regrets.”

“So you’re saying you never did drugs?” I knew I was so focused on that part of her words and her smile said she knew it too.

“Is that all you got from what I said?” With a shrug, she stood as the timer went off and pulled the food from the oven. “I’ve tried some but I prefer wine and pot. It’s interesting how we’ve spent so much time talking about drugs when you’ve traveled to the most beautiful places on the planet.” Her words were wistful, dreamy.

“Interesting?”

“Yep.” She nodded, wearing a knowing smile and waiting for me to talk.

I had no idea what to do with this carefree sexy woman, but I thought it might start with a few hours—or maybe a few weeks—in bed.