His blue eyes flickered, showing vulnerability for the first time since he’d walked in the door. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you haven’t even met her fiancé until now?”
“They’ve been dating for all of three months,” he said quietly. “Maya and I have lunch twice a week, and she never mentioned they were getting serious.”
“Maybe she thought she couldn’t talk to you about it,” Brooke challenged, lifting her chin. “You’re not exactly welcoming the man into the family.”
“Ms. Baldwin. You know nothing about it.”
“And I’m guessing you don’t, either, seeing as you’re doing more glowering than actual listening. So I’ll ask again, what are you doing here, Mr. Tyler?”
He moved a half step closer. “I’ll be the one ensuring that you get paid, Ms. Baldwin. So if you’d like our business, I’m going to suggest you check the attitude.”
“So what’s the plan? You’re going to just shadow my every move?” she snapped.
The question was sarcastic, but to her surprise, his cold expression turned speculative. There were several moments of silence before he responded.
“Let’s just say Maya means everything to me, and I’m the only family she has. I plan on being around for the details,” he said quietly.
“How much of the details?” Brooke asked warily.
“All of them.”
She swallowed, refusing to let herself get flustered.
“I think you should know how this works, Mr. Tyler. Getting involved with the details—all of them—involves more than you getting to spend time with the bride and groom. It also means you’re going to be spending an awful lot of time with me.”
Seth moved closer, crowding her against the counter in the tiny kitchen until there was nothing but body heat separating them.
Seth lowered his voice to a growl. “How much time with you?”
Brooke licked her lips, hating that it betrayed her nervousness. And her want. “Once a week at least,” she said quietly. “More as the wedding gets closer.”
“Hmm. Once a week,” he repeated. His light blue gaze flicked up to hers. “I think, Ms. Baldwin, that things could get very interesting.”
There was that strange charge in the air between them again. But this time, Brooke wasn’t going to play—she’d seen enough to know this guy had some serious control issues, and was a jerk to boot.
Not to mention her very first client was in the other room, and Seth seemed to be holding the purse strings.
Brooke wasn’t a stickler for rules, but getting involved with a client was a major no-no in every way. Especially now, when her reputation was already in tatters. No way was she going to risk her new job with the Belles for some coddled, pretentious asshole—even if he did have killer eyes and the body of a demigod.
Brooke took a deliberate step to the right and edged out from beneath his laser-sharp gaze, effectively severing the moment. “We’ll see about that, Mr. Tyler,” she said sweetly, then marched out the kitchen door, letting it swing shut behind her.
Chapter Five
IT WASN’T THAT SETH was a loner.
Sure, he’d been an introverted kid—the type to prefer a handful of close friends to dozens of acquaintances, if given the choice. But he’d also played on enough sports teams, been sent to enough summer camps, and been generally well enough liked through his years at prep school and college that he’d had an active social life.
Or rather, he used to.
These days he could barely find the time to go to the gym, much less accept one of the dinner party invitations that trickled in—which was why he had had the company gym fully updated and outfitted with the best equipment. He never had to leave the confines of the building to get in his fitness fix.
But there was one person that Seth could always count on to be around—even when Seth didn’t necessarily want him to be.
“Dude. Your turn to spot.”
Seth didn’t even pause as he added more weight to the bar. “I have some energy I need to work out.”
“Right, because I’m just a delicate canary with no life stress whatsoever,” Grant muttered. Still, he didn’t protest when Seth lowered himself to the bench and rested his hands on the familiar silver bar, taking a deep breath before Grant helped him lever the weight over his chest.
Seth wouldn’t go so far as to say he liked working out. It was a sweaty, time-intensive affair. But somewhere along the line he’d gotten hooked on the habit. Five days a week, at least, and twice a week he and Grant went together.
His friend always joked it was the manliest possible way for two adult men to maintain a friendship.
“You’re doing more than last week,” Grant observed as Seth moved through his reps. “You want to talk about it?”
Seth didn’t reply. This sort of interaction was pretty typical: Grant talking at him. Seth ignoring, Grant pestering anyway.