I slipped into the bathroom the moment we were inside the house. I almost couldn’t look at myself in the mirror, at the smudge of lipstick on my mouth and the loosening of the tie that kept my dress in place. I wanted to wash my face, wanted to erase the evidence of what had just happened in the back of that car. That wasn’t me. I wouldn’t make out with a guy I barely knew. If I’d done that in the Army… But this wasn’t the Army anymore, was it?
I did the best I could at repairing my makeup—God, I was actually wearing makeup!—and retied the thin ribbon around my waist. Then, with a deep breath, I stepped into the narrow hallway off the kitchen.
I could hear them talking, could hear Jacob warning Lucien that he could be asking for trouble with me.
“You don’t usually bring your one-night stands home.”
“Well, maybe I’m hoping this won’t be a one-night stand.”
“You don’t know anything about that girl.”
“What did you know about Lynn before you took her home the first time?”
There was a touch of silence. Then Jacob said, in that surly voice of his, “Lynn and I were different. And I didn’t pick her up in some bar.”
“No, you picked her up in some hotel restaurant. Like that’s so much better.”
“Yeah, well, considering the way things have ended up, perhaps it wasn’t better. And maybe you should learn something from my mistakes.”
Silence fell again. I chose that moment to make my presence known, stepping through the archway between the narrow hallway and the kitchen. Jacob saw me first, and he had the respect to let his eyes fall to the floor. Then Lucien turned, a bottle of wine in his hands, and he smiled.
“Here’s that Chateau Margaux I told you about.”
“Sounds good,” I said with a soft smile. “Will you be joining us, Jacob?”
He started to shake his head, but Lucien said, “Of course he will. It’d be rude to run off without having at least a single glass of wine.”
Jacob shot his younger brother a dirty look, but he didn’t argue. He simply walked to one of the many beautiful distressed wood cabinets and took out three large wine glasses.
It’s my habit to notice everything about my surroundings. I served a tour in Afghanistan, so being observant had been a matter of life or death. But I’d been taught the skill of observation when I was a child, too, by my father. He was a detective for the Houston police department. His idea of entertainment was to create fake crime scenes and see how long it would take me to pick out the clues the ‘suspect’ left behind. So I found myself looking around the kitchen, noting the door we’d come through, the archway to the hallway that I’d just come from, and another archway that led into the spacious living room that I could see just past the breakfast bar. I also noticed the expensive appliances, the fancy pots hanging from the ceiling above a butcher block-topped island. I wondered which of these guys was the cook.
“Wine?” Jacob asked, handing me a glass Lucien had just filled.
Our fingers brushed as I accepted. He wouldn’t meet my eyes as he backed away.
“Let’s go in the living room,” Lucien suggested, holding his arm out for me. I moved into it and reminded myself not to stiffen as he laid his hand on my back and guided me in that direction.
Jacob settled on a large, overstuffed club chair. I eyed the other club chair, but Lucien guided me to the couch. I sat against the arm, twisted a little so that my back was against the armrest and I was facing Lucien. He did the same, turned slightly so that we were facing each other instead of the room, as the furniture placement had intended.
“What do you do for a living, Adrienne?” Jacob asked.
I glanced over at him, chewing on my lip a little. “I work at a law firm downtown.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows rose. “Are you an attorney?”
“No. I’m a researcher. I’m the one who goes through the law library and finds previous cases that can potentially help or hinder a client’s case.”
“Sounds interesting. Do you like it?”
I shrugged. “It can be interesting sometimes. But it’s usually pretty boring.”
“Have you thought about going to law school?”
“What is this, Jacob? A job interview?” Lucien asked, his hand suddenly sliding over my knee. I glanced at him, but he was focused on his brother.
“Just curious,” Jacob said, setting the wine glass he’d been holding on the side table, untouched. “You never really gave her much of a chance to say anything before.”
“What do you want to know?” I asked, waving my free hand. “I’m an open book.”
Jacob’s eyes moved slowly over me, and then he looked away, almost like he was embarrassed to be caught showing a little normal male behavior.
“Are you impressed with this house?”
“Jacob!” Lucien said.