Chapter One
Three years later
“Yeah, bro, keep grinding your teeth—you’ll have extra calcium in your coffee this morning.”
Just what Julien needed, smart-ass quips from Conner, the oldest of his three brothers sitting at the conference table. Time and experience deemed him the responsible elder who held them all accountable, except when taunting his siblings.
“Plus a few caps. A gold one might look nice.” Marc grinned while keeping his attention on his laptop.
And I wanted to join my three brothers’ PI firm because…? Years of private investigating plus a military stint taught Julien patience, persistence, and self-control. Ten minutes into the weekly conference corresponded to dropping a grenade in his emotional reservoir. The genetic annoyances society classified as siblings lived to make him miserable. He sat straighter in his chair after reading the instant message that popped up on his computer screen. Go for it man, you’re getting old and withered. No one wants to fondle old balls.
Sending foul obscenities back didn’t relieve his tension.
“Fidgeting won’t help either, dude…” Marc’s sense of persnickety knew no bounds. As second in the line of siblings, he’d feel obligated to amp up the misery.
Julien’s long blink failed to scour the source of his personal doom imprinted on his mind. An unseen force in the great cosmos had coerced him to hire Adara as his primary assistant. Something about her eyes—yes, her fault entirely. How had he ended up sitting across from her anyway? Something he didn’t need. He tried to concentrate on the open cases in front of him, tried to keep his eyes off his personal assistant, and tried to keep his body’s responses from attacking his jeans. Strike three. Glare from the bank of windows behind her increased his surliness.
A vital cog in destiny’s wheel possessed him to hire a beautiful assistant who tangled his emotions from their first encounter. Life had taught him desire lacked moral responsibility, yet his sanity came into question in progressive degrees of lust-derived fog. What the hell?
Informal meetings used to involve a relaxed atmosphere, congruent with their dress code. His jeans tightened to the point his big head received a smaller portion of blood flow. Thinking was out of the question, much less standing to leave.
“Don’t be surprised, guys, if you wake up tomorrow and all your home furnishings have been moved to storage—to an undisclosed location.” Their wary expressions, evidence of belief, granted no satisfaction. Time to call my buddies from my old unit to ask for a favor.
“Come on, Julien, they’re just kidding. You know they love you.” Nate remained the peacekeeper, middle child syndrome.
“I’m not kidding. But I would be generous and leave them a tea towel to use after their shower.” Julien’s shrug seemed to convince them.
Each cleared his throat. Marc straightened his shirt collar.
“Okay, enough of this virulent celebration of swirling brotherly love.” Nate’s disruption of their teasing earned him a bath towel.
“Where do we stand on the Brittner case, Marc?” Julien rubbed his eyes and tried to focus.
For a distraction, he reached for one of the pastries from the plate piled high with an assortment of goodies, sticking his thumb in the gooey mess. No one said a word while he cleaned it on a napkin.
As if in a dream, he watched his hands pour a glass of ice water from the pitcher sitting next to the food. As it filled, the glass cooled his baser thoughts. Nothing could prevent his gaze from seeking Adara.
Guffaws erupted when the water overflowed. He’d never been a klutz, priding himself on self-control and mindfulness. More snickers emerged as he dabbed at the spill with a napkin.
“Closed the Brittner case last night and spoke with the insurance company this morning. They thanked us for the video of their lame client playing football.” Marc’s deadpan face belied his shaking shoulders.
In their eyes, he would always be an awkward kid. Looking around the table revealed each of his brothers’ assistants smiling, straightening their expressions only when he glared.
Julien glanced again at Adara, whose gaze remained fixed on her notes. He’d been lost from the moment she arrived for an interview. Long, shiny, black curls caressed her breast through an oversized if plain, cotton shirt. Though she obviously tried, nothing could hide the fluid movements of her slender, athletic build.
It wasn’t clear which feature gave her the fey-like quality, a small pert nose, almond shaped eyes, or thickly fringed lashes. That’s why he stared at her. He was a physiognomist. Can’t wait to throw that word at Conner.
Six months ago, the day after Adara’s job interview, his executive decision of rearranging the central part of the office so the assistants’ desks were better located was met with snickers and a legion of double entendres. Adara’s desk happened to end up facing his office, a coincidence. Every week since, he found copies of decorating magazines on his desk, compliments of smart-ass brothers.
Whenever she looked at him, her electric blue eyes seared a path straight to his groin despite the unmistakable sadness swirling in their depths, lurking below the shallow façade that included a forced smile and soft voice. Dark circles edged her lower eyelids, as if nightmares provided constant companionship. Whenever he tried to forge a connection, she withdrew. His shaft throbbed in commiseration. Hells bells.
“Something you wish to add, Julien?” Conner grinned, as did the rest of them.
He mentally tore out their vehicles’ distributor caps.
“You look a little constipated by the way. We have bran muffins here if you’d like one,” Marc quipped.
“Wankers…like I blow ropes of brickwork from my ass.” He growled with frustration. Drumming his fingers on the table drew Adara’s gaze to him.
Fear tinged her wide eyes. She shrank back when he showed the least bit of irritation. He stilled his busy fingers and ground his teeth, again.
The curve of his lips held a sign of his intention his brothers wouldn’t miss. Eventual retaliation against Conner would have to be a memorable prank, not to mention, public.
The other assistants looked at their bosses, amusement in their countenances. They’d adapted to the brothers’ form of camaraderie but seldom took sides. Adara’s gaze remained on him, as if waiting for him to throw her over his shoulder and run off to the nearest cave. Mmm.
“Sorry, Adara. I know you’ve only worked here a few months, but…what can I say? We’re brothers,” Julien apologized, not knowing what else to do. “Besides, they still think purple is a flavor.”
“No problem, sir.” She gifted him with a shy smile.
Never had one reached her eyes, at least not in his presence. Possible circumstances to bring about a face-splitting grin crossed his mind, each one discarded. Those types of thoughts didn’t belong in the current meeting. Though she looked delicate on the surface, she held steel underneath. It resided in the squaring of her shoulders, rigidness of her spine, and the steadfast look in her eyes when she set her mind on a goal.
“At least my bed’s not shaped like a race car.” Conner’s comment raised eyebrows around the room.
His oldest brother had been jealous at the time.
“There’s that twenty-twenty brain power, Conner. Why don’t you focus that laser wit at your laptop and bring up the Chauncey file?” Julien replied with a grin. A flash of his childhood bed, shaped like a red fiberglass sports car, flitted through his mind. He hadn’t thought about it in years.
“Ah, I don’t think I have that file loaded yet.” Conner looked at his assistant. “Have you filed it yet, Jackie?” Conner’s confusion became the source for more amusement.
His assistant shook her head.
“Sorry, guys, it’ll have to wait till tomorrow,” the eldest added with a shrug of his shoulders. If someone were to judge their office by the current meeting, a modern twisted version of Laurel and Hardy along with their twins, would come to mind.
Every profession needed a steam relief valve, this proved harmless the majority of the time. Most of the employees seemed to enjoy them.
“It’s still on your desk, Conner, underneath a ton of clutter you call organized. I’ll be glad to file it digitally when you shovel off the debris and get it to me.” Jackie’s long-suffering sigh brought more chuckles. “I’d dive in and get it myself but I know you don’t like anybody touching your junk…”
Conner’s lips thinned, and his eyes narrowed with the innuendo.
Arrogance and disdain for anyone with a heartbeat accessorized Jackie’s intelligence. At their first meeting, Julien had thought her beautiful, but quickly learned her inner bitch could do battle at a moment’s notice and with little provocation.
“Gee, Conner, you’re not as computer savvy as you look. Ya coulda just done a search. Or maybe Jackie should schedule your computer training as she cuts up a pastry for you.” Nate smirked, then deflected that same incoming projectile—toward Julien.
Direct hit.
“Ugh…” Julien scooped the sticky fruit pastry off his shoulder and deposited the mess on his plate with a grunt, grateful they weren’t suit-and-tie types. “Food fight, guys? Really?” It would be nice to keep the dignity of the office to a minimum standard but that often failed when all siblings were in range. If they had to act loutish, they could at least have better pastries.
With a napkin and a little water from his glass, he cleaned his shirt.
“Jackie, can you schedule Conner some time with a personal trainer to teach him how to not throw like a girl?” Nate, the peacekeeper between the four, turned traitor, instigating trouble.
“Yes, sir, just as soon as I spray this cloud of testosterone with some estrogen.” Jackie smiled sweetly.
Owning your own business generated a certain amount of freedom. Working as a private investigator with your brothers permitted lenient policies and practices. A priceless commodity. They held high standards when it came to work, but office time sanctioned a relaxed atmosphere with everyone except Adara. Anger churned in Julien’s gut with the thought of anyone extinguishing her spark of life.
Flashbacks of the standard, prehire background check flitted through his mind. Orphaned for the second time at age fifteen, she lived with an uncle and cousin. Excellent grades through most of high school contrasted with the drop off when her adoptive parents died. Nothing to set off catastrophic alarm bells on the surface. Yet she equaled more than the sum of her parts—much more than her beautiful, haunted blue eyes, soft-spoken demeanor, and shy smile.
Many headaches ensued from botched attempts at finagling more than their fragile working bond. She never failed to help others, but remained self-controlled, self-monitored, hesitant, an enigma that held a little Adara badass waiting just under the surface. His instincts rarely proved wrong.
Job experience taught him to read people, something at which he excelled. And still haven’t been able to crack her shell yet. With Julien, observance, and patience were generally synonymous, as long as he wasn’t pouring water.
“Guess that’s it then.” Conner shrugged his shoulders and winked at Adara, knowing it would drive Julien apeshit.
“Adara, isn’t your twenty-first birthday coming up soon?” Marc’s grin heralded the start of the next world war.
Julien’s cheeks ached from clenching his jaw. Leave her the hell alone.
She merely nodded with a small frown, staring at her hands folded on her files. A round of applause and congratulations sounded around the table. The crimson spreading up her neck and face darkened with the round of congratulations filling the room.
“That’s great. How about we all go out tonight? My treat,” Marc added with a wide grin to Julien. “My pathetic younger brother needs a dinner companion.”
Julien considered tossing his stack of files at the instigator. A tic began around his left eye as he rubbed his forehead, trying to remember why he loved his family. They’d always been close—sometimes, too close.
“Um, thanks, guys, but I can’t. I appreciate the offer, though.” Adara fidgeted with her notes. Her brief eye contact with Julien resulted in a deeper blush before sliding away.
“Okay. That’s it for the meeting. Everybody back to work.” Julien closed his laptop and sighed. “Day’s not over yet.”
* * * *
“Always the last one out, huh, Adara? See something you want?” Jackie flipped her glossy hair as her sly smile flicked over Julien. “I’d set my sights to match your own species if I were you…”
Jackie’s undercurrent of animosity never failed to bite Adara whenever Julien was near. At least the others have left. Adara didn’t know if raging estrogen kept Jackie hot on her boss’ trail or the need to remain office queen prompted the nastiness. Julien never seemed to notice the witch’s efforts.
“Just being thorough. Don’t want to leave anything undone.” With a dignity she didn’t feel, Adara rose from her chair after taking her time to straighten her folders. The idea of accidently bumping into someone made her procrastinate—clumsy should be her middle name. At one time she’d thought herself somewhat graceful, that her ballet classes had kept her agile. Now she prayed to avoid collision with one disaster or another.
“Actually,” Julien glanced at her and smiled, “I find that you, Adara, are the most thorough and conscientious assistant I’ve ever known. I wish everyone could live up to your standards.” One brow hiked up and a certain coldness settled in his features as his gaze raked Jackie with a dismissive glare.
Adara both loved and hated their weekly meetings. Camaraderie among the brothers grounded her, reminding her of the near-idyllic life with her parents before the accident. She hadn’t realized at that time how happy she’d been—or how quickly life could change.
The compulsive glance over her shoulder to note the bitch’s position proved a mistake and another disaster in the making. Julien stood to her side, his intense gaze incited an inner shaking. Awkwardness reared its head again as her left foot caught on a chair leg.
When she dropped a file from her stack of folders, Jackie snorted. “Maybe you should invest in some glasses, Adara. Otherwise, those darn chairs might just keep attacking you.”
“Enough, Jackie. I believe you have work to do.” The voice. Julien’s deep timbre brooked no argument. Ever.
Papers drifted on micro-currents, floating—where else but to the source of her anxiety, Julien. The whisper-soft fluttering ended with them settling gracefully at his feet. Quickly she stooped to gather them, thankful she didn’t wear dresses or skirts. The snicker from her inner conscience overrode Jackie’s snort of derision.
“Sorry, sweetie. I’m sure you’ll get better, Adara.” The sneer in the bitch’s voice dripped contempt. If disdain were a royal garment, the office bitch would wear it coiled so tight around her body the interwoven fibers would join with her on a cellular level. Wrinkling her nose as if she’d stepped in something noxious, she turned and left the room.
Adara didn’t know which bothered her more, enduring Jackie’s condescending attitude or Julien’s focused attention. I can gather my own papers. The heat of his gaze brought an intense warmth to her face. When her gaze flicked to his, the small brackets at the corners of his eyes betrayed his tension.
With close proximity, his cologne snared her attention as much as the force of his focus, the same spice her father used to wear. The gaze sure wasn’t anything she’d seen before. Eyes on the floor, girl.
“Are you all right, Adara?”
The quiet intensity of his tone made her stomach clench. Her hands shook as she tried to straighten the stack of folders. If he would have just left with Jackie—his nearness made her gulp.
Don’t look at his eyes! The fake smile she plastered on her face wouldn’t fool him. Nothing ever did. “I’m fine, Mr.—”
The words stuck in her throat. Yeah, she just had to look. She spent her working life stealing glances. Now, his gaze scorched her like the dry ice Uncle Tony brought home for his son. Her hands stopped shaking simply because they froze despite the instinctual need to escape, a protective measure as old as time.
“You seem a little tense today. Anything I can do to help?”
The deep resonance thawed her mind if not her body. “N-no, sir. I’m fine.” Was that disappointment in his expression or resignation?
Silently he placed the gathered papers on her stack before lifting them all to the tabletop. His fingers brushed hers.
“Oh.” Adara jumped when his hand steadied her as she stood. Heat flamed up her neck while a tingling at her elbow served up proof of their attraction. What he wouldn’t know was the arid quality of her mouth matched the heat climbing her cheeks, both desiccating her thoughts.
Then he did it. He smiled. Jeez. If not for the continued hand at her elbow, she’d land in a mushy pile of confusion at his feet. He’d deduce that from the tremor rippling through her limbs.
This job meant more to her than anyone at the firm could imagine. Working for private investigators—she learned everything she could and prayed it would be enough. The newfound knowledge would give her a new life. Her existence depended on it.