Though in the woman’s defense, his brother was being a bit of a dick.
“I don’t have a choice. He had a last-minute emergency so the meeting was cancelled.” Chris’s soothing voice drifted out of the living room. “And the senior partner invited me to join him at the country club for a round of golf. Was I just supposed to say no?”
“Yes,” Claire shot back. “It’s one thing to dump me off on your brother while you have a legitimate business meeting to attend, but you’re blowing me off for golf? Can’t you see how that might be a tad annoying, Chris?”
His brother didn’t have the decency to sound remorseful. “When the senior partner invites you to his club, you say yes, end of story.”
After taking a calming breath, Dylan pasted on a happy face and strode back into the living room. “Your bags are in your room.” AKA fuck you, big brother, for turning me into your damn bellhop.
“Thanks,” Chris said absently.
Claire didn’t say anything.
Dylan studied her discreetly, wondering what his brother saw in the woman yet at the same time knowing exactly what Chris saw in her. The woman was sex on stilettos. She had reddish-brown hair that cascaded down her back in long waves, enormous amber-colored eyes, a cupid’s-bow mouth that was made to be wrapped around a man’s cock. And she was packing a lotta sweet, sweet curves beneath that sleek black business suit of hers.
“Did I hear something about your meeting being cancelled?” Dylan said casually.
Chris nodded. “The partner I was supposed to meet bailed. So I’m playing golf instead.”
“Should we go out for dinner later?” He made sure to include Claire in the offer by sparing her a pithy glance.
“I’m having dinner at the club with the senior partner, and then he mentioned something about a cigar lounge. I’m not sure when I’ll be back tonight.”
As much as he hated feeling even an ounce of sympathy for the Ice Queen, Dylan understood why she looked so pissed off. Chris really was abandoning her.
“So you’ll be spending the entire day and night hanging out at a country club?” Dylan eyed his brother warily.
“Such is the life of a corporate lawyer,” Claire spoke up. Her voice was tighter than a drum. “Just think, Chris, you wouldn’t get to experience such luxuries if you’d taken that job at the public defender’s office.”
Dylan also picked up on a note of displeasure in her voice—directed at him. And just when he thought he’d imagined it, Claire actually scowled at him.
WTF? What did he have to do with Chris turning down a public service job and choosing to suck on the corporate teat?
“As you can see, my fiancée isn’t very happy with me at the moment,” Chris said wryly. Sighing, he wrapped his arm around Claire’s shoulders and offered that puppy-dog grin Dylan had seen him flash to get out of trouble during their entire childhood. “Don’t be mad at me, dear.”
Dear? Had they moved into an old folks’ home without telling him?
“You know what a great opportunity this is,” Chris went on. “And it’s not like you’ll be alone. You can spend some time with Dylan, get to know your future brother-in-law.”
Both Dylan and Claire cringed, but Chris didn’t seem to notice.
“I have that carnival thing tonight, remember?” Dylan said, not bothering to hide the relief on his face. No way would Claire want to spend her evening at such a lowbrow event.
“Hey, that’s great. You love carnivals,” Chris said to the redhead. He glanced back at Dylan. “She’s always trying to get me to go to that carnival near the pier, the one you used to drag me to when we were kids? But you know how I feel about those places. So tacky and boring—” Something buzzed and Chris removed a BlackBerry from the pocket of his navy-blue blazer. “Shoot, gotta take this. You two hammer out the details.”
As Chris waltzed off, Dylan sized up his future sister-in-law the way he assessed a mission’s potential threat level.
“You don’t have to come,” he said graciously.
“You don’t want me to come,” she corrected.
Their eyes met in a Wild West standoff.
She drew first blood. “I don’t like you, but Chris wants us to get along, so you know what? Fine. Let’s just go to this stupid carnival, win him a big stuffed panda, and come home raving about what a super-awesome-fantastical time we had, okay?”
“I don’t like you either.”
“You just had to get that in there, didn’t you?”
“Thought it was only fair that you knew the feeling was completely mutual, honey.”
“Don’t call me honey.”
“Would you rather I called you dear?” He snorted. “What are you, an eighty-two-year-old woman?”
Her cheeks were flushed with anger, almost matching the color of her hair. “You know what? Maybe I’ll stay here and we can just pretend I went to the carnival.”
“Scared that you might fall in love with me?” he asked sweetly.
“Worried I might strangle you,” she shot back.
“Then we’re in the same boat, honey.”