me while I drive to Brentwood.”
A gasp comes from my mouth. “I wasn’t doing that.” I lifted my chin in defiance. “I only got as far as your lips.”
“I stand corrected. You may resume your inspection.”
“What happened to your nose?”
“What do you mean, what happened to my nose? My nose is perfect.”
“Yes, it is perfect for you, but you’ve broken it before. Remember, I have an older brother, so I recognize the injury. Chris had his nose broken twice. Once skiing, and once in a fistfight. What’s your story?”
“My brother Roman broke my nose when I was thirteen. I borrowed his favorite baseball mitt and lost it at the ball field. My dad had given it to him, so it was special.” He heaves a sigh. “I spent the next four days sitting at the ballpark, asking everyone who showed up if they found a mitt. I’d about given up when a mom and her three kids arrived in a minivan.” He risks a glance in my direction, then turns back to the road. “I almost didn’t ask her but figured it couldn’t hurt. She went around to the back of her van, reached in, and pulled out my brother’s mitt. It was one of the best days of my life. Roman always felt bad for breaking my nose, but it was a good lesson for me. It taught me to never take what’s not mine.”
Just as he finishes his story, we arrive at his mom’s Brentwood estate. To call it a house would lessen it. We enter through a security gate and wind along the driveway to the magnificent Tuscan villa. In the center of the circular drive sits an Italian fountain that sputters water from three different levels.
“Did you grow up here?” I ask with a touch of awe in my voice.
“No, Mom bought this house about six years ago. She entertains a lot, and the house suits her needs. It’s over the top, but she’s paid her dues and deserves it.” Damon points in the direction they came. “My childhood home isn’t far from here. It’s a traditional house that sits on a large lot.” The hint of a smile curves his lips. “Our dad built Roman and me a tree house in the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. It wouldn’t surprise me to find that tree house still standing in a hundred years.”
As he talks about his brother, a range of emotions cross his face. Everything from happiness to sorrow and something in-between. His eyes say everything without saying a word.
He escorts me to the front door, where his mother greets us.
“Katarina, I’m so glad you came. Damon said he didn’t think you could make it, but I was positive you wouldn’t disappoint me. Come in.” She stood aside so we could pass. “Let’s have a drink before dinner. What can I get you?”
“A glass of wine if you have it.” I follow Rose to a beautiful hand-carved bar where she pours Damon and me a glass of wine.
Rose takes the only single chair available, forcing Damon and me to sit next to each other. His leg presses to mine from thigh to knee. Goose bumps rise on my skin.
“Tell me what you’ve been up to since the fundraiser, Katarina?” Rose asks.
“Mom, she likes to be called Kat.” He looks at me and smiles.
“Nonsense,” Rose says with conviction. “Katarina is a lovely name. Why would you shorten it?”
I scowl at him and see merriment dance in his eyes. He seems to say, “I told you so.”
“It’s just a nickname. You can call me, Katarina. My mom fell in love with the name when an ice skater from Germany won the gold medal in the 1984 Olympics. As far as what I’ve been up to lately … just the normal stuff, like school and work.”
“You work in a coffee shop in Hollywood? That must be an interesting place to watch people.”
“Katarina is good at watching people,” Damon says, looking into my eyes.
I silently return a message that tells him to behave.
“It’s so nice to see you two together,” Rose comments with glee in her voice.
I don’t want her to get the wrong impression, so I correct her. “Oh … no. We are not together. We’re just friends.”
“Some of the best relationships begin with a solid friendship.”
“Mom, leave it alone,” he groans.
“Oh, shut up, Damon. Let your mom dream. Katarina, do you know how difficult it is having a wealthy son? I can’t hold his inheritance over