Brothers of Paradise Series

I watch in silence as Dad rummages through papers on his desk. What will it be this time? Another flawed investment opportunity? A chance to disparage my business decisions?

Finding what he’s looking for, he hands it to me, a frown on his face.

Ah. It’s a short excerpt of a newspaper article, but the message is clear. A group of city planners, activists and lobbyists had managed to stop the Chicago project and the city’s building council, buoyed by the momentum, is set to announce new zoning laws for the area.

I lower the paper. “Rolfe and Pierce can’t be happy about this.”

“They’re not.” Dad leans back in his office chair. “But I was.”

It’s impossible to hide my surprise. “Did you end up investing?”

“Yes. But not as much as I had originally planned. They’re going to reimburse me every last penny, too.”

Through the window in his study, the sun is setting, bathing the backyard and the shoreline in warm golden light. Studying it gives me a moment to compose my features. “All right,” I say finally. “I’m glad you weren’t more exposed.”

His grin is crooked, containing something rare. Self-mockery. “If you won’t say it, I will. You were right, son.”

“Wow.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he says with a snort.

A smile is slowly spreading on my face. “Oh, I won’t.”

“I shouldn’t have dismissed your opinion like that. Now, what’s this I’ve heard about a split between Marchand & Rykers?”

My grin is full-blown now. We haven’t discussed business or building for months, so he hasn’t been able to ask me about this. It must have been eating him up inside.

“We can discuss it,” I say, coming around to his side of the desk. “I’ve been lining up projects for the coming years, deciding on a profile for the new firm.”

He fires up the computer. “Show me?”

“I will.”

It’s late when Faye and I finally walk home that evening, taking the route along the beach, her hand in mine. The sun might have set but the boardwalk is teeming with life, with teenagers skateboarding and couples in hushed conversation on benches. The unseasonably warm September evening has brought everyone out.

Faye squeezes my hand. “I love this place.”

“Mmm, good. You’ll have to be here a lot, you know.”

She chuckles. “Good thing I like your family too.”

“Even better.” I press a kiss to the top of her head, conveniently within reach. “Tell me again what your parents said when you told them about me.”

Faye elbows me. “You vain creature.”

“Tell me.”

“Finally, they said.” Her cheeks flush. “That I’d finally met my match.”

I slide an arm around her waist, bending so my lips are close to her ear. She smells divine. “Don’t be embarrassed. My mom told you they’d been waiting for me to meet someone. To meet you.”

She clears her throat. “Dad also said that I sounded head over heels when I described you.”

“Did he?” Interesting.

“Yes.” She sneaks a sideways glance at me. “Mom agreed.”

“You sound head over heels, or you are head over heels? There’s a difference.”

She pushes me away, her laughter exasperated. “Henry!”

I catch her. It’s not difficult, wrapping her in my arms and tipping her head back. She kisses me back, surprised, warm and lovely.

“I am head over heels,” she murmurs finally. “You’ve tortured it out of me.”

I grin. “Tortured? You wound me, Faye.”

“Not in the least,” she says. Her eyes glittering with happiness might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Come on.” I pull us along toward the cottage. Her words have worked like catnip. The past month has been one of the best of my life with her in it, and the need to be alone with her-to show her that-is nearly overwhelming.

Faye laughs as she hurries along beside me. “Hey! My legs are shorter!”

“Sorry. I’ll slow down.”

“Or I’ll speed up.” She releases my hand and starts to jog, her hair trailing behind her. “Down for a little competition, Marchand?”

I grin at her. “You know I don’t lose.”

“No,” she says, already ahead of me. “Only to me!”

We reach the cottage almost neck-and-neck, neither of us running to win. Faye laughs as I lift her up and carry her across the threshold.Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

“Getting ahead of yourself, Marchand?”

I don’t reply. I kiss her instead, and she melts in my arms, my hands flattening against her back as I press her closer still. Her lips move hungrily against mine as I kick the front door shut behind us. A month together and I still can’t get enough. I doubt I ever will.

I walk her backward toward the bedroom. “Are you still wearing that thong?”

“Of course.” Faye’s lips trail down my neck, undoing the buttons in my shirt. Her response sends fresh need pounding through me and my hands fist the fabric of her skirt, wanting to tear it off, to see the little piece of lace she’d bought to tease me with. It barely covers anything.

She pushes me onto the bed, eyes blazing. “But you’re going to have to earn it.”

“Oh?” I put my hands behind my head, letting my gaze sweep across her body. “I do love a challenge.”

Faye proceeds to give me exact instructions, her cheeks on fire from the words she’s using. She’s gotten better at handling the dirty talk-but I hope it never stops embarrassing her a little.

“God, you’re sexy,” I breathe. “Come here.”