Last Name - Dr. Rebecca Sharp Page 0,17

just as nicely as his suits but the image they portrayed was very different—more relaxed, as though I’d followed a chivalrous knight to his keep and was seeing him for the first time without his layers of armor.

Meanwhile, I was still in work clothes—because I thought this was a work meeting. High-waisted dress pants that always flattered my form and a sleeveless blouse for this warm summer night.

Somehow, I managed to feel both overdressed and stripped bare as his eyes dragged over me with a hungry familiarity that made my body tingle.

My chin dipped as he ushered me inside, the scent of fresh forest mingled with the spicy-sweet aroma of BBQ sauce invaded the expansive space. High-beamed ceilings in the hallway led straight toward a living room I could see was paneled with large windows that directly faced the lake.

“You never said I’d be coming to your brother’s house,” I mumbled the accusation just loud enough for him to hear, my shoulders and back tensing as I stepped farther into the tasteful entryway.

There was a candle on almost every surface and the walls were decorated with various pieces of colorful abstract art.

“If you could come to this address after work tomorrow, both my brother and Suzanne will be available to discuss any thoughts you might have,” was what he’d told me at the end of the day yesterday.

I’d even wondered why it was being handled after hours, but since he hadn’t mentioned that he’d be here, I thought I’d lucked out.

Maybe it would be easier to avoid my husband for the next two weeks than I’d been anticipating.

But sure enough, here he was. And here I was.

“Technically, it’s not his house. He’s only renting it for the wedding,” James replied and, when I shot him a glare, added, “Is it a problem?”

“No, it’s just very…”

“Large?”

I glared at him. “Intimate.”

A shudder coursed down my spine at my poor choice of word, especially when I was looking at the man with whom I shared a personal experience with that word.

And it was a level of intimacy I wasn’t comfortable with.

“Is that a problem?” he repeated.

I pulled my lower lip between my teeth for a moment. “It just doesn’t seem very businesslike when you invite me to a house… to a family gathering.”

His head dipped close to mine, the strains of his whisper making him feel closer than he really was. “Well, technically, you’re family now.”

“James,” I hissed in horror. “That’s not part of the deal.”

He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. He wasn’t supposed to remind me.

Though he was certainly proving hard to forget.

“Calm down, gorgeous.” He kept his tone light as he drew back, placing a hand near the small of my back, just close enough for me to question whether he was actually touching me.

Close enough for me to wish he was.

“You told them I work for you, right?” I clarified, hearing voices as we approached the kitchen.

“Carrie, I gave you my word that what happened in Vegas would stay between us,” he reminded me with a low, taut voice, and I drew a deep breath.

He was right.

He had promised, and I was overreacting.

But overreacting was necessary when I was still attracted to him.

“James?” a woman called from just around the corner. “Is that—Oh!” A tall rail-thin woman with short brown hair and drooping, kind eyes appeared, their color identical to James’.

“Carrie, this is my mother, Kathleen Arden,” he introduced her. “Mom, this is Carrie Bishop. She is my new… recreation specialist.”

I was the only one who caught the subtle hesitation in his voice and he knew it, the way his smile flared wider in that split-second.

“Oh, Carrie,” she exclaimed, giving her son an intrigued glance before pulling me in for a hug as though James had used the ‘W’ word. “It’s so nice to meet you. James said he was having someone from the hotel come for dinner tonight to chat with Lars and Suzanne.”

Dinner?

I watched her eyes drift back to her son and back to me again. Kathleen Arden was one of those women who wore their thoughts like billboards across her face. It only took that one glance to see she was wondering if there was something between James and me.

If only she knew.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I managed to say over the urge to turn and throttle her son.

“Come in.” She turned back to the kitchen. “I’m just putting some sweet potatoes in the oven. I think Lars and Suzanne are out on the deck