The Billionaire's Illicit Twins - Holly Rayner Page 0,63

grateful that she carried a change of clothes in her backpack. Not only was she an artist who often got messy during the day, she sometimes worked pretty far away from her Brooklyn apartment. It paid to keep a fresh blouse and jeans on hand.

In a bathroom stall, she stepped out of her paint-stained overalls and exchanged them for a baby blue button-up and skinny jeans. Luckily, her black boots with buckles worked by adding an edgy feel.

She never had found that pesky ponytail holder that always seemed to want to be anywhere but in her hair. Stopping at the mirror, she smoothed down her wavy, shoulder-length blond hair and touched up her makeup.

A quick look at the clock said she only had a few minutes until she was supposed to meet Kai. Looked like she’d be jogging.

The spot with the lions turned out to be a wine bar. As it was early summer, heat and sunshine still assaulted the streets. Inside the bar, though, the air was nice and cool.

Pausing by the door, Diane squinted her eyes and studied the space. Cozy little booths sat parallel to a bar, and though there were about five or six people in the place, none of them was Kai.

Taking a seat at the end of the bar, she hung her backpack on a hook between stools and picked up a menu.

“What can I get you?” the young woman who was bartending asked.

Diane gave up on reading. “I’ll take whatever your best pinot noir is.”

“Good choice,” someone chimed in behind her.

Again, Kai had managed to sneak up without her noticing. As her cheeks warmed, he took the stool next to her.

“Make it two pinot noirs,” he told the bartender.

“You’re really stealthy, you know that?” Diane asked.

“What? No way,” he said, though the grin on his face suggested he probably knew otherwise. “Thank you for meeting me here.”

“How could I not?”

“Well…”

“Hold on.” She held up a finger. “Maybe don’t answer that question just yet. Let’s keep the skeletons in the closet for a bit longer.”

“You sure?” His laugh made her belly warm. “Don’t you want to know what we’re getting into before we go any further?”

“And what would be the fun in that?” She playfully squinted her eyes. “No, I’d rather figure people out bit by bit.”

“Okay. I can go with that.”

The bartender arrived with their wines, and they picked the glasses up at the same time.

“Cheers.” Diane clinked her glass against his.

The wine hit her nose first, bringing hints of mushrooms and vanilla. It went down smooth, leaving her warm and cozy.

“So you work at Weiss Enterprises?” She paused for dramatic effect. “At least, I imagine you do.”

“No, I was only hanging out there.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Oh, okay. Good to know.” She laughed over her words. “And is that something you do a lot? Mill about random businesses?”

“Full disclosure? Only the one I work at. Which, yes, happens to be Weiss.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “I was kind of milling. I’d been watching you for a while.”

“Watching me? Hm.” She considered that while drinking some more wine. “Is that something I need to be concerned about?”

“For clarification, I walked by once right after lunch and saw you. Then, I might have made up a couple more excuses to walk past the front entrance over the course of the afternoon.”

“And yet I never saw you.”

“You were consumed in your work.” He propped his arm on the bar and faced her more fully. “It was your focus that made you so compelling.”

Diane’s face warmed. This guy had a way with words. And it didn’t hurt that he looked like a model.

“I was into it,” she said. “I love my job.”

“It’s clear. It’s a nice thing to see.” He stayed with his elbow on the bar, gaze fixated on her. “And you work with Johansen Design?”

“Yes. For the past…fifteen years. Ever since I was a freshman in high school.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s impressive.”

“Well, it’s my father’s company, so…” She shrugged and sipped her wine.

Sometimes it felt weird telling people she worked for her dad. Like doing so meant that she’d used nepotism to get ahead instead of talent and dedication.

The good thing about those feelings was they’d inspired her to apply herself extra hard to everything she did. At this point, she knew she was a good artist. Not one of the best in the world, no, but maybe someday she’d get there.

“I started in the office,” she said, “running errands. And