She clapped her hands in happiness as the driver opened her side. Before she got out into the frigid air, she reached across the car, touched his hand. “Thanks for doing this,” she said.
“Maya, you know I’d do anything for you,” he said quietly. “Seriously.”
“I know. Likewise, and Seth . . . don’t hate me, okay?”
He frowned. “For what?”
Maya was already out of the car, the door slamming shut on his question.
“Maya. What are you . . . damn it.” Seth snatched up his gray scarf, hurrying out into the February-evening chill as he wound it around his neck and scanned the area for his sister.
Then he spotted her blond head immediately—getting into another car, which proceeded to speed away from the curb.
“Maya!” he shouted, but it was useless. She was long gone. He threw his hands up in the air. “What the hell is this all about?” he fumed.
His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. A text from his interfering little sister. Talk to her. You’re welcome! Love you.
“Damn it, Maya,” he muttered again, this time with less heat.
“I think,” said a soft voice from behind him, “that this might be sibling matchmaking at its very most devious.”
Seth froze before he very slowly forced himself to turn around to look at the face that went along with that gorgeous voice.
Brooke.
Chapter Twenty-Three
JUST AN HOUR EARLIER, Brooke had been thinking that Maya Tyler might go down as her favorite client of all time.
But with Seth Tyler bearing down on her, his expression torn between disbelief and rage, she was definitely rethinking her warm feelings toward Maya.
The woman had thrown her to the wolves.
No, wolf.
And this wolf was pissed.
Maybe he had a right to be. His sister had just dragged him downtown during rush hour under the apparently false pretense of needing his approval on a wedding space, only to disappear into the back of what must have been a preplanned escape car.
And now he was stuck here with her, the woman who’d compared him to a building.
No wonder he hadn’t responded to her emails. Not that her emails had been personal. Or even apologetic. They’d been entirely professional, more testing the waters to see if he even wanted to have contact with her.
Survey said nope. Not a single response or acknowledgment. It had now been a week since The Sex, and they hadn’t exchanged a single word.
Judging from the murderous expression on his face, tonight wasn’t going to change that.
Brooke blew out a breath. “If you want to get right back into your car, I won’t take it personally.”
Much.
His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t know about this?”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “You mean did I bribe your sister into dragging you here so that I could trap you into talking to me? No. Like you, I thought Maya only wanted to see the venue once more before signing the contract.”
His eyes flicked up to the building behind her. “So she really is considering doing it here?”
Even in spite of all the crap going on with her and Seth and her irritation at Maya’s meddling, Brooke didn’t bother to hide her excitement about the space behind her. “I think so. I hope so. It’s not glamorous, by any means, but it’s just, it’s . . .”
How did she describe perfection? Brooke had fallen in love with spaces before, but never before had she had her breath taken away by a building. But the Hamilton House, with its stately exterior and charming interior, had hit her at the gut level. She was a sucker for any space that managed to preserve its history while stepping into the modern times with delicate class, and the people behind the Hamilton’s restoration had gotten it exactly right.
Before she realized what she was doing, Brooke had hooked her arm in Seth’s, turning so that they were both looking at the mid-rise building. It was unassuming, to be sure. The original brick had crumbled to the point of disuse, so the previously brick structure was now a more stable cement. But the original back had been repurposed to frame the doorway and windows. A strange-looking building, but all the lovelier for its quirkiness.
“Isn’t it great?” she said.
She didn’t expect him to respond, and he didn’t. Instead she glanced over to find him studying her.
“Want to go in?” he asked.
Brooke blinked. “Really? You want to?”
He lifted a shoulder against the cold. “I’m assuming you have an appointment, or whatever. Shame to stand someone up.”
“Actually, I have better than an appointment,” she said, digging into her purse and coming up with keys. “Let’s just say one of the property manager guys might have a little crush on me.”
His eyes were unreadable. “Is that so.”
Her breath caught a little at the unexpected possessiveness of his gaze and she blushed. “No, I just meant—”
He only shook his head and looked away. “I’d like to see inside. Maya, for all her manipulations, seemed genuinely excited about it.”