It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that will never happen, but I bite the sharp retort back. “G’night.”
“Drive safely,” she gets in before I end the call.
My place is on the other side of the city. Upper West Side, to be exact. My dad was a stockbroker, and Mom being a publicist, also added to the wealth. Uncle Carl controlled the trust fund until I turned twenty-five. I have enough to hold me over for three lifetimes, but no one at the bureau except for Uncle Carl knows. My inheritance is one of the reasons I’m so private.
Parking at the back of the property, next to the Corvette Stingray and Camero SS, I grab the bag from the passenger side and head toward the back entrance. Dad and I used to spend our Saturdays working on the cars. It was our bonding time together.
The house is a six-bedroom, but I only use two on the third floor. Leaving the lights off, I walk to the kitchen.
Uncle Carl once asked me why I won’t sell. It’s the only place I feel connected to my parents. I haven’t changed a single thing, except for my bedroom.
I’d give up every dollar I have in a heartbeat if it would bring my parents back.
I drop the bag in the kitchen, and grabbing a beer from the fridge, I take the stairs up to the second floor while glancing at the family portrait spanning across the one wall that’s illuminated by the lights shining in through the copper-clad rounded bay window.
Mom was forty-one and Dad forty-five when they passed away. The portrait was made seven months before the accident. I never visit their graves, choosing to remember them here at home instead of cold and six feet under.
I loved my parents. More than anything. And God, they loved me.
The first year after their deaths, I couldn’t function. I was drowning in grief and almost failed my senior year. If it wasn’t for Uncle Carl, I would have probably ended my life.
Stopping in the doorway of the main suite, I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb and look at the dressing table where all Mom’s perfume bottles still stand exactly the way she left them. Sometimes I gather the courage to spray some into the air so I can smell her.
It’s been eighteen years since they died, and I still don’t have the strength to wipe out the last traces of them.
That’s the kind of man JJ would see if she looked too deep. One who’s unable to move on from the past.
A man that’s thrown himself into his work because this house is too big… too empty. A constant reminder of what I’ve lost.
A man who hasn’t let in anyone but Uncle Carl for fear of suffering such a devastating loss again.
Things are easier when it’s just you. No responsibilities.
Now I’m stuck with the Jefferson sisters, caring whether they live or die.
How the fuck did that happen?
You know how.
You took one look at JJ, felt protective, and now you’re fucked.
Chapter 5
JJ
Dropping down in a kitchen chair, I let out a huff of air, finally able to let my turbulent feelings rise to the surface.
Lindsay warms my plate of food, and setting it down in front of me, she takes a seat, shutting her laptop. “Just by the look on your face, I can tell something happened.”
I shake my head, meeting my sister’s soft brown eyes. “To keep cover, we kissed.”
Shock flutters over her features. “What?”
“O’Brien kissed me,” I repeat the words. It feels surreal now that some time has passed. “It was all an act, of course.” My shoulders slump. “On his part, at least.”
“And you?”
I let out a sputter of laughter, the worry that I might’ve given something away during the kiss, filling my chest again. “I was so overwhelmed. I got swept up in it, and now I don’t know whether O’Brien picked up on my attraction for him because, on top of it all, the man’s a damn empath just like Dad was.”
“Oooh.” Lindsay scrunches her nose as if it’s a foregone conclusion that I’ve given my feelings away to O’Brien. “Did he say anything after the kiss?”
“Nope. He got back to work like it didn’t happen.”
“Ouch.” She reaches across the table, nudging my plate closer to me. “Eat.”
“I have zero appetite.” Bringing my hand up, I rub my fingers over my forehead while letting out a sigh. “What if he caught on I’m attracted to him?”
Lindsay shrugs as if it’s not a problem. “If he brings it up, just tell him the kiss was hot, and you responded to it, but there’s nothing else.”
My eyebrows knit together. “That could work. I’ll just have to watch myself around him from here on out. He’s really close with the chief, and the last thing I need is to end my career over a crush.”
Lindsay taps her fingers on the table, then a mischievous smile spreads over her face. “But damn, he’s smoking hot.” Her smile keeps growing. “And super protective.”
“Right,” I chuckle.
“And it was sweet of him to give me his number when he went all big brother on me.”
My mouth curves up when I remember how startled Lindsay was. “He scared the crap out of you.”
Laughter bubbles over her lips. “If someone’s going to break into the house, I pray they look like O’Brien. I’d let him kidnap me any day.”
Picking up a bean, I throw it at my sister. “Stop.”
“His shoulders,” she sighs dreamily, tossing the bean back into my plate. “And his biceps. God, the sleeves of his t-shirt were so tight, it had me drooling.”
“You’re not going to stop, are you?” I try to give her a pointed look but fail miserably because she’s right, it was drool-worthy.
Leaning on her forearms, she gives me an eager look. “What did the kiss feel like?”
“Think of kissing Jared.” Lindsay’s had a crush on Jared for the past two years. Luckily for her, he’s also attending NYU, so she still gets to see him.
She lets out a shriek, fanning her face. “I’d combust if he ever kissed me.”
“That’s what it felt like.” I push the plate of uneaten food to the side, and resting my elbows on the table, I cover my face with my hands. “Toe-curling, mind-numbing, body-electrifying. Hot as hell.”
“Gah, you’re making me jealous.”
Lowering my hands, my teeth tug at my bottom lip as I admit, “His jaw. God, Lindsay, the way it moved beneath my fingers while he was practically devouring me.”
Her eyes widen, another burst of excitement lighting up her face like the Fourth of July. “I’m so going to enjoy living vicariously through you. Was there tongue?”
I begin to laugh while nodding, enjoying the moment I’m giving myself to reminisce over the kiss before I have to shut it down. “Boy, was there tongue. He tasted like mints.”
“Damn, sista.”
We settle down, soft smiles on our faces, then mine starts to fade. “It’s going to be hard.”
Lindsay’s expression also sobers up. “I know. But I’ll be here to help you through it. We’ll stock up on comfort food.”
Reaching across the table, I take hold of her hand. “I get a feeling I’m going to need you a lot.” Getting up, I push the chair beneath the table. “I’m going to shower and head to bed. Don’t stay up too late.”