great tutor. Her passion for art history was infectious and I found myself listening to her with genuine interest.
All and all, it had been a pleasant first dinner. Ellie had asked me a couple of personal questions that I had managed to deflect back onto her. I now knew that she was a big sister to half-siblings, Hannah (fourteen) and Declan (ten). Her mom, Elodie Nichols, lived in the Stockbridge area of Edinburgh with her husband Clark. Elodie was a part-time manager at the Sheraton Grand Hotel, and Clark, a professor of classical history at the university. It was clear from the way she talked that Ellie adored them all and I got the impression that Braden spent more time with this family than his own mother.
At lunch today, Ellie and I had taken a break from our own work and met in the sitting room for food and a little bit of television. We’d sniggered our way through an episode of classic British comedy ‘Are you Being Served?’ and had bonded in comfortable silence. I’d felt as though I were gaining surprisingly fast but steady ground with my new roommate.
However, turning up at my work with her brother? Well that was not cool. Not that she knew about my incident yesterday with her brother…
“We’re meeting up with some friends for a drink in Tigerlily. We thought we’d stop by to say hi.” She grinned at me, her eyes dancing with mischief in a seventh grader kind of way before she slanted them questioningly in Craig’s direction.
Tigerlily huh? That was a nice place. I noted Ellie’s pretty sequin dress. It looked like something from the 1920’s and screamed designer. It was the first time I’d seen her so put together and with Braden standing next to her wearing another dapper suit as well as their companion, Adam, I felt a little out of sorts. Despite all my money, I wasn’t used to the obviously stylish, ‘cocktails and crème brulee’ kind of lifestyle these guys were used to. Somehow disappointed, I realized I did not fit in with this crowd.
“Oh,” I answered dumbly, ignoring her questioning eyebrows.
“This is Adam.” Ellie turned to the guy behind her as soon as she realized I wasn’t going to answer her silent query. Ellie’s pale eyes turned dark with deep warmth as she looked up at Adam and I wondered if this guy was her boyfriend. Not that she’d mentioned a boyfriend. The dark-haired hottie was just a little shorter than Braden with broad shoulders that filled out his suit nicely.
His warm dark eyes glittered at me under the bar lights as he smiled. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
“Adam is Braden’s best friend,” Ellie explained and then turned to her brother. As soon as she looked at him she burst out laughing, her giggles filling the bar like fairy bubbles as she glanced back at me over her shoulder. “I would introduce you to Braden but I believe… you’ve already met.” I barely heard the word ‘met’ over her choked laughter.
I stiffened.
She knew.
Eyes narrowed, I shot Braden a disgusted look. “You told her.”
“Told her what?” Adam asked bemused, looking at the still chortling Ellie as though she’d gone mad.
Braden’s mouth turned up in amusement as he answered Adam without taking his eyes off me, “That I walked in on Jocelyn when she was wandering around the flat naked.”
Adam eyed me curiously.
“No,” I retorted with a bite in my tone. “I was coming out of the bathroom looking for a towel.”
“He saw you naked?” Craig interrupted, a scowl marring his forehead.
“Braden Carmichael.” Braden stuck a hand across the bar for Craig to shake. “Nice to meet you.”
Craig took it, seeming a little dazed by Braden. Great. Even men were charmed by him. While he smiled at Craig, that smile disappeared when his eyes fell on me again. I detected a slight chill in them and frowned. What had I done now?
“I have a girlfriend,” Braden assured Craig. “I wasn’t putting the moves on yours.”
“Oh, Joss isn’t my girlfriend.” Craig shook his head with a cocky grin down at me. “Not for my lack of trying.”
“Customer.” I pointed to the girl at the other end of the bar, glad for an excuse to get rid of him.
As soon as he was gone, Ellie was leaning against the bar. “Not your boyfriend? Really? Why not? He’s cute. And he certainly thinks you’re hot.”
“He’s a walking sexually transmitted disease,” I answered grumpily, running a dishrag over an invisible