Brothers of Paradise Series

“Mhm. In that case, we can talk about all kinds of things.” She turns and walks backward, ahead of me, her shoes in one hand. I’ve slipped off my own as well, and the sand is warm under my feet.

The summer air has gone to my head, because here with her, it’s easy to imagine a different reality. One where she’s actually mine-where we walk on the beach most days.

“What things?” I ask.

“You want me to pick a conversation topic? That can be dangerous.”

I snort again. “I’m well aware. Maybe we could have a mature discussion about our mutual attraction.”

She pretends to consider that for a bit. “Maybe not. Maybe we can talk about you.”

“Again? You’re turning me into a narcissist.”

“You own a firm with your last name in the title. I’d say that ship has pretty much sailed.”

“That’s an excellent topic,” I say. “Ships.”

She shakes her head, but her eyes are amused. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, but it’s what we should talk about. My family sails a lot, and we have a sailing boat here.”

“Of course you do,” she says, rolling her eyes. “What’s next? You’re related to the Kennedys?”

I wave a hand. “Second cousins, but that’s not important. Let’s go sailing this weekend. I’ll take you out. Have you ever been?”

Her eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Let me take you sailing.”NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

“No, Henry, about the Kennedy thing.”

“That was a joke, although I think my parents have bumped into members of the extended family at a few events.”

She returns to my side, taking two strides for every one of mine. “You want to go sailing?”

“It’s summer. Why not?” And, I think, because it gives me more time with you. Time with her away from the strict confines of the office, where the title of assistant and boss don’t hang around our necks like blaring neon signs.

“I’ve never been sailing.”

“I’ll teach you,” I say. I’ll never tire of it-the wind against my skin, the feeling of rope running painfully through my hands. It’s been too long.

Faye bites her full lip, reminding me of how sweet she tastes, and I have to look away before I lose yet another point in our imaginary game. “It’ll take us away from the project,” she says.

“For a few hours, yes. But I think both of us work hard enough to deserve a weekend with a bit of fun mixed in.”

She shakes her head, her glossy mass of hair shimmering in the sun. “Who are you, and what have you done with Henry Marchand?”

I smile at that and don’t reply, mostly because there’s nothing to say. With her, I feel more like myself than I have for a long while, and I don’t want to let that slip out of my fingers.

When we’re nearly at my parents’ house, we stop to put our shoes back on, and Faye leans against me to steady herself. The small touch makes me irrationally happy. Her wit, her intelligence, her beauty-everything is intoxicating. She’s a woman who gives as good as she gets in every interaction.

She looks up at me with an apologetic smile. “I’m going to get all the names mixed up. I always do. It’s my one flaw.”

“Your one flaw, huh?”

“Yes, and it would be very ungentlemanlike of you to point out any others.”

“I would never,” I say. “Lily is the only girl, and you’ve already met her, so I’m sure you’ll remember her name. When in doubt, just remember that it’s a flower.”

“Idiot.”

“And I’m Henry,” I say solemnly. “H-e-n-r-y.”

“No, you’re a complete asshole,” she says, her grin widening. “Why haven’t I realized it before?”

“I try very hard to keep it hidden.”

“Try harder,” she says.

Something inside me aches happily at her teasing and the clear ease in her voice. I take her hand in mine, leading her across the lawn toward my parents’ house. It’s large, Victorian, three stories and blue shutters. The picture of imposing Paradise Shores.

“This is where you grew up?”

“Yes,” I say. “So, Rhys is the brooding brother, Parker is the laughing, nice one. It’s impossible for you to mix them up.”

She nods. “Right. So Parker is the adopted one?”

I can’t help it-I laugh. It’s the kind of joke my brothers would love, and she hasn’t even met them yet. “Yeah, you could say that, though not to my parents’ face.”

“I would never.”

Another voice calls in the distance. “Henry? Is that you, laughing?”

“Yes!”

There’s a faint whoop and then my brother’s voice rings out again. “I haven’t heard that since 2007!”

“Very funny. They’re exaggerating,” I tell Faye.

She nods, eyes teasing. “I know. You’re a clown in the office.”

I want to tease her back, but we’re already at the porch, and there’s no more time. A flurry of introductions and hugs and handshakes ensue.

“This is Faye,” I say, and she shoots them all a big smile.

“It’s really nice to meet you all.”

My youngest brother shakes her hand immediately, and something in me eases. He can talk to a wall, and there’s no one who’ll be kinder to her.