ALANA POURED Comet onto a green scouring pad and went at the white porcelain sink as if she were training for the Olympic scrubbing team. Her life had been peaceful and calm for a long time. Moving to Chicago had been a huge upheaval, but the subsequent six years, once she settled in, had been rewarding and enriching. She’d met Sam when his sink backed up and she surprised him by being the one who showed up to fix it. Their friendship had proceeded slowly and naturally into romance. She’d made other friends in the building, at her gym and book group, and enjoyed an active social life. Chicago had provided plenty of culture. Life had been good.
Even her breakup with Sam, though difficult for him and guilt-laden for her, hadn’t put her through too much devastation, which validated her decision not to marry him. Mostly a matter of breaking habits and coping with sadness and regret. Though if Alana had still been involved with him, she might not have found it as practical to plan a new life in Florida.
She rinsed the sink, stared critically and shook in more Comet. Now her life was in transition again, so it was not too surprising that she was a little—okay, maybe a lot—stressed. The nagging restlessness in her relationship that came to a head when Sam proposed, and the same in her job during this past year after they broke up had been unsettling. Gran’s fall had been even more unsettling, especially having to guess at the details—Gran claimed minor injuries to one leg, but she’d say that if she shattered every bone—then all the exhausting planning and packing for the move, then Melanie’s meltdown and now…
She scrubbed harder.
Sawyer.
He was the most infuriating, funny, charming, infuriating, sex-y, sex-ual, sex-ist infuriating man she’d ever met.
Did she mention infuriating?
More Comet, more scrubbing. There were gray streaks on the bottom of the sink where pans had rubbed, and stains, probably coffee or tea, maybe something tomato-ey. All of them were doomed.
If Alana’s apartment showed dirt or clutter, it was a guarantee that she was relaxed and happy. When you-know-what hit the fan, she cleaned. Even when she was little, if Mom hadn’t come home when she said she would, if she’d had one of her bad days, one of her wild days, brought yet another man home, Alana would tidy the house, arrange her toys, make her bed and Melanie’s, drag out the vacuum cleaner and the full array of cleaning products seldom touched by their mother, and she’d subjugate her pain and fear to creating cleanliness and order.
Which was why this sink would blind users by the time she was done. Because second only to Sawyer’s unforgivable behavior yesterday morning had been hers. She didn’t know what had disabled her common sense, but while her brain had been extremely clear about staying away from him for Melanie’s sake, and for the sake of female pride everywhere, her body had entirely other thoughts. Alana had acted like the worst type of no-means-yes woman, something she’d never done in her life, not even in high school when hormones and inexperience could easily cause that conflict to tip the wrong way.
Not Alana. She’d said no with ruthless sincerity to junior-year boyfriend Jake and senior-year boyfriend Ted no matter how crazily her lust was acting up. In college she’d said yes, but only to Alan, and only after an appropriate amount of dating time. After college, she and Sam had proceeded with degrees of intimacy appropriate to their deepening relationship.
Yesterday morning? With that man who lied and teased and came on to her completely inappropriately? She’d acted like a seventeen-year-old virgin, still into movie-star fantasies of men, who is faced with her first real one. Attracted, repelled, wanting, knowing she couldn’t have. Or shouldn’t. On edge like she’d never been before, excited, shooting sparks, so out of her mind that she fell, splat, victim to his magnetism and hadn’t cared. Had. Not. Cared! Since when had she not cared about moral issues? Since never. Since she had a mother who didn’t. And now a sister who didn’t. Someone in their little family had to, and that had always been Alana.
At least she’d stopped at kissing Sawyer, though my God, the man could redefine kissing.
Alana chose a new spot on the sink, ignoring the light sweat spreading on her body that didn’t have enough to do with the exertion of cleaning and too much to do with the heated memories.
Were he and Melanie an item or not? Not that it mattered. Alana was staying away from Sawyer no matter what. Or at least she was going to make sure she tried a hell of a lot harder than she had yesterday. No means no means no! She’d practice if she had to.
But if they weren’t dating, then Melanie lied saying they were a couple, which would hurt. She and Alana saw eye to eye on very little, but Alana had always trusted her to be honest. For so many years, they had only each other.
Alana would have to ask. Melanie hadn’t come home after work yesterday, which she often didn’t, and Alana was in bed by the time she made it back, so Alana hadn’t been able to—or been willing to, given that the day had been confusing, to say the least—confront her sister. The second Melanie came downstairs this morning, assuming Sawyer wasn’t around, Alana was going to pounce and not let go until she got the truth from somebody around here.
She went to work on the metal drain stopper, determined to make it sparkle again. Today she’d try to sort this all out so she could make definite plans to move on. She should make sure to call Gran and Grandad later to check on Gran and keep them up-to-date.
“G’morning.” Melanie bounced in, wide-spaced hazel eyes bleary with sleep, her blond hair a ratty mess around her head, wearing only a wrinkled pink Bratz T-shirt that barely covered the necessities. She looked absolutely adorable.
“Morning, Mel. Sleep well?”
“Mmm.” Melanie started a huge yawn, then bit it off. “God, Alana, what are you doing?”
“There was all this…stuff staining the sink, and I thought I’d help…”
Melanie rolled her eyes and pulled open the refrigerator, which could use a scrub, too, now that Alana looked. Something purple had dripped down the front, and there were dried bits of green—lettuce?—on the bottom that could use wiping.
Uh-oh. She was really upset. But as long as she didn’t start wanting to wash windows, she was sane. If the glass cleaner came out, it was time to call in professional help.
“You ever stop to think that all your efforts here might seem like a criticism of the way I live?”
Temper flared. Alana lobbed the scouring pad into the sink. “You’re welcome.”
Melanie got out the plastic jug of orange juice and let it thud unnecessarily hard on the counter where they ate.
Alana took a deep breath. This was not how she wanted their sisterly interaction to start this morning. Or any morning. They couldn’t seem to help setting each other off. Which was most of the reason Alana had moved away to Chicago.
“Sorry, Mel. I’m cranky. And you know me, cranky equals cleaning.”
“I knew that. I shouldn’t have taken it personally.” She poured herself juice, sloshing a bit and of course not wiping it up. “What’s going on?”
Alana cleared her throat, and then realized in an odd flashback, that was what their mother had done before she approached a difficult subject. In a Pavlovian response, Melanie’s hand carrying the juice glass froze halfway to her mouth.
“Uh, I had a kind of strange talk with Sawyer yesterday.”
The orange juice glass lowered. The sleepy green-brown eyes turned cautious. “Yeah?”
“He says you’re not dating.” Alana made sure her voice was gentle, no accusation implied. “That you’re not involved at all.”
Melanie’s glass hit the counter with a sharp crack. She mumbled something.
“What?”
“I said not involved yet.”
“But…I mean…has he shown any interest?” She held her breath, shocked at how desperately she hoped Melanie would say no.
“He’s the kind of guy you always told me I should want. And I do. I finally found a good one.”
Alana nodded carefully. What she was walking on would make eggshells feel like bricks. Melanie hadn’t answered her question directly. If Sawyer had shown interest, she’d lose no time throwing that fact in Alana’s face. Which meant when he’d come on to Alana, he was single. She wasn’t going to take that thought any further just yet. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“I did. I told you I’d found the guy I’d like to spend the rest of my life with. That’s the truth.”
Alana felt a twitch of irritation at the hair-splitting. And a traitorous kick of jealousy she was ashamed of. “You didn’t think I’d assume you were together already?”
“I didn’t think you’d come barreling up here to check my story before we’d had the chance to get to know each other.”
“Okay.” Alana gave in, moistened a sponge and wiped up the juice spill in front of her sister, not looking at her in case she was rolling her eyes again. “You said you’d known him a solid month. I thought that meant—”
“I didn’t say solid.”
Alana turned back to the sink, rinsed the sponge, picked up the scouring pad and went to work again on grout turned brown with mold. Otherwise she was going to want to smack her sister. “Okay. You probably didn’t say ‘solid.’ So maybe you didn’t lie and I’m sorry if I accused you. But you certainly misled me. On purpose. How come, Mel?”
Her sister sighed, but not in exasperation. “Because I was excited about meeting him and jumped the gun…as usual. Because I thought you’d feel better about moving to Florida if you thought I was settled with a good guy, which I finally have a chance to be, with Sawyer. Because you worry about me and everyone more than you worry about yourself and I wanted you to take a break, at least on my behalf.”
Alana turned and met her sister’s eyes across the kitchen. “Is that really why?”
She shrugged and grinned lopsidedly. “I care about you, too, you know.”
“Aw, Mel.” Alana swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
“Am I the only reason you’re cleaning? When you start on grout, it usually means something more serious.”
“Oh. That. Well.” How could she tell Melanie Mr. Dream Guy made another pass at her? That Alana had responded? She couldn’t. More to the point, she didn’t need to, because that was over, done with, not going to happen again. “I was confused about you and Sawyer. And, yes, worried. You know me.”
“Don’t worry. He is remarkable. Really. Did you know he’s Dalton Brewing?” She grinned triumphantly at Alana’s shock. “Uh-huh. Sawyer is a direct descendant through his mom, though his dad was no slacker, either. Big-shot CEO. Major cash in the family.”
Alana stared stupidly. Sawyer, the consummate player bum, came from money? “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Melanie grimaced. “I had some adolescent idea that I wanted you to trust me no matter who the guy was.”
“Aw, Mel…”
“I know. I have to earn the trust. And I will. You’ll see.”
Alana murmured encouragement, feeling uneasy. She hated hearing her sister talk about her as if she were an ogre parent. But maybe she acted like one. She’d certainly felt often enough as if she had to be one. “Is that why neither of you is worried about the ‘between jobs’ thing?”
“Yup. He doesn’t need a job to begin with.” Melanie fished a cottony piece of white bread out of a plastic bag and dropped it into the toaster. “You should see his house in Whitefish Bay. Only a block from the lake and about a bajillion bedrooms.”
“Ah.” Alana smiled weakly, feeling sick. She’d treated him like a loser down to his last dollar.
No, wait, he’d acted like one.
Why?
She rinsed the now bright-white sink and dried her hands. The answer was obvious. And painful. Because she’d assumed. Judged. Jumped to conclusions about his character and motivations. And in return for that favor, he’d played her like a banjo.
Ouch.
“He was a successful lawyer, but had health issues, so he chucked it.” Melanie grabbed the barely browned piece of toast from the toaster and smeared it with sweetened peanut butter, leaving the crumb and peanut-butter gobbed knife sticking out of the jar. “He promised himself he’d take six months off to rest, then start on something less driven. I guess his dad and brothers are all workaholics and Sawyer felt like he was turning into all of them.”
“Oh.” What else could she say? Money didn’t guarantee good character, but this man wasn’t who she thought she’d met. Lawyer meant graduate degree. Most of Melanie’s boyfriends thought junior year of high school was plenty of education. Her sister would have it made if her plans went through and she and Sawyer ended up together. Not that money was the most important thing, but security…she and Melanie would never, ever take that for granted, even after so many safe, good years with Gran and Grandad.
“Sawyer has three older brothers, Finn, Tom and Mark.” Melanie bit into the toast, crunched happily, looking excited and starry-eyed. “Guess what author his dad was into?”
“Huck Finn, Tom Sawyer, Mark Twain.” Alana drank the last of her coffee and decided she’d better eat something to settle her churning stomach. Not peanut butter and tissue paper-white bread. “Do you have any bran cereal?”
“Do I look like someone who has bran cereal?” Melanie pretended to be insulted. “You want prune juice, too, granny? Guess what. Don’t have that, either.”
Alana stalked to the cereal cabinet. She liked high-fiber breakfasts because she stayed full longer and had less trouble keeping her weight in check. She wasn’t like Melanie who could eat sticks of butter all day long dipped in chocolate batter and deep-fried and not gain an ounce.
“Lucky Charms? Cocoa Puffs?” She stared in exaggerated horror, pushed boxes aside. “Oh, thank God, Raisin Bran.”
“Raisin Bran?” Melanie frowned, mouth full of peanut butter. “Better check the expiration.”
“December of this year. It’s fresh.” Alana got down a blue-rimmed bowl, pulled open a drawer for a familiar spoon. It felt good being in this house again; it felt like home. “Maybe one of your old boyfriends was a closet bran-eater.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged as if she thought it extremely unlikely. “So when are you leaving?”
“Want me out of the way before you jump Sawyer, huh.” The joke came out more bitterly than she’d intended; she dumped too much cereal in her bowl and had to put some back. She knew she was intruding on Melanie’s life, but her sister’s impatience to get rid of her hurt.
“No, I know you’re anxious to get to Florida, and since you get now that Sawyer is not my usual guy—”
“You want me out as soon as possible.”
“No! I want to make sure we have dinner at a new restaurant—new to you—on North Avenue that I think you’d like.” Melanie laughed ruefully. “Will we ever be able to communicate normally?”
“Probably not.” She crossed the kitchen and gave Melanie a long hug. “You and me?”
The phrase was one they’d used often when their mother was out of the house or out of commission. Melanie squeezed her, then let go. “You and me.”
“What, I’m not invited?”
“Hey, Sawyer!” Melanie’s face lit up. “How was your second night?”
“Better than the first. And also not as good.” He winked at Alana, who immediately turned to pour herself another cup of coffee, though more stimulation was the last thing she needed. He wore a loose T-shirt and khaki shorts, bare feet, his dark hair tousled appealingly; he moved with a lumbering swagger that was so masculine her mouth was practically watering.
Melanie laughed as if she’d never heard anything so clever in her life, though she obviously didn’t get the joke or she wouldn’t have found it funny.
“Good morning, Alana.”
“Hi there.” She tossed the greeting over her shoulder, safe by the coffeemaker. “Glad you slept well.”
“Did you?”
“Sure.” Not. Even with her new sleeping pill—but not the second one this time—she’d had a hard time dropping off, lying in the bed she’d slept alone in for over a decade. One night with Sawyer and it was as if he belonged there with her. She wished she’d taken the guest room after all.
“So what’s on the calendar today, roomies? Looks like Alana got a jump on the cleaning.” He started opening cabinets. “Mugs here? Whoa, someone likes candles.”
“We ate by candlelight all winter. Gran said it chased away the gloom of early darkness. She bought them by the case. Mugs are here.” Melanie got down a Green Bay Packers mug for him, apparently unconcerned to be caught wearing only a shirt, which lifted and clung sexily when she reached into the cabinet, though Sawyer didn’t seem to notice. Er, not that Alana had meant to check for his reaction.
Sigh. Sometimes, Alana wished she was more like her sister. Not very often. But if Sawyer had come down while she was half-naked, she’d have turned beet-red and run from the room to put on sweatpants.
“Alana cleans when she’s upset.”
“Oh?” He moved next to her—too close, she felt her whole body wanting to lean into his tall strength—and poured himself a cup of coffee. “You upset?”
“No. No.” She inched away, sat at the kitchen counter and sent Melanie a look of death behind his back. “I’m fine.”
“Good to hear. Can you pass the Raisin Bran?”
“What?” Melanie jumped to get him a bowl. “You like Raisin Bran, too?”
“I have it every morning. Creature of habit.”
“Then this is your box.” Alana knew there had to be some reason Melanie had healthy cereal in her cabinet. “I’m sorry, I had no idea—”
“I think I can spare you a bowl of Raisin Bran.” He grinned and took the box, sat on the stool next to her across from Melanie, to Alana’s intense but not altogether unpleasant discomfort. “Especially after what I put you through.”
“Oh. Well.” Dammit, she was blushing again. “That’s…it’s…I don’t—”
“So what are you doing today, Sawyer?” Melanie had the slightest edge to her bright tone. “I promised Edgar—he’s my coworker—that I’d shop with him for a surprise for his girlfriend’s birthday, then I’m at Habitat for Humanity this afternoon. You coming?”
“Yes, after lunch. I’m going to stay close to home this morn ing. Get settled in. What about you, Alana?” He got milk from the fridge and handed it to her; she tried not to notice how easy it was for him to hold the full gallon at arm’s length. Oh, what she’d missed by being asleep that first night, and not being able to see or experience fully what—“Milk?”
Oh, help, she was still staring. He’d asked her something else, too.
“I…don’t really…I should get going…Florida.” She shook her head at the milk, completely disgusted. Could she not even come up with a complete sentence?
“Stay another day. I don’t think I’ve convinced you I’m a good guy yet.” He took the milk jug back. “I’ll take you both out to dinner tonight.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Sawyer, that is so sweet.” Melanie reached across the counter and squeezed his forearm, then rubbed up and down before she let go. “We accept.”
“Um, I guess one more day.” If Alana could survive the next twenty-four hours remembering the touch of this man’s lips while watching her sister fling herself at him. If Sawyer was everything Melanie said, and if Alana could be convinced he wasn’t also a player, he really would be great for Melanie. Better than anyone Alana could have imagined her sister ending up with.
She’d just stay in Florida the rest of her life.
“Gah, what time is it?” Melanie peered at the digital clock on the microwave. “Yikes. I’m meeting Edgar downtown in half an hour. Gotta go shower.”
She crammed peanut butter and toast into her mouth and grabbed her coffee to take upstairs, her legs flashing strong and muscular under the pink T-shirt.
Alana put her sister’s plate in the dishwasher, then went back to her Raisin Bran, eating quickly so she could also go upstairs and not be alone with this guy she didn’t know how to feel about anymore.
“How are you doing today, Alana?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Thanks.” She swallowed a mouthful. “Melanie’s been telling me about you.”
His eyes turned wary. “Good things?”
“Yes.” She frowned. “Why, is there something bad?”
Sawyer laughed and shook his head. “You don’t let down your guard, do you?”
“Sorry. I’m still not over that first, um, encounter.”
“Mmm.” He held up a hand, put down his coffee. “I talked to my brother again this morning. Police are involved. My drink had been laced with…ready for this?”
“I think so.”
“Benzodiazepine. Also known as the date-rape drug.”
“Who would want to date rape you?”
He jerked his gaze to hers. “Is that an insult?”
“No! I was just—” She rolled her eyes when she realized he was kidding. He had her off-balance all the time. The feeling was unfamiliar and vulnerable. And challenging. And a little exciting. “Go on.”
“The culprit was the jealous ex-boyfriend of a woman, Debbie, who I was, uh, talking to.”
She shot him a glance. “You mean, trying to hook up with.”
“Me?” He put his hand solemnly to his heart, looking so innocent she had to smile. “The upshot is, when I climbed into bed with you, Alana, I had no idea what I was doing.”
A snort of laughter came to her lips before she could suppress it. As far as she was concerned, he knew what he was doing better than any man she’d ever been with.
“Something’s funny?”
“No, nothing.”
“Come on, something.”
“Sawyer…”
He nudged her shoulder with his. “Tell me.”
“Fine. The part where you said you had no idea what you were doing…” Blush, blush, mumble, mumble, why did she have to be either dorky or hysterical around this man?
“My God, was that a compliment? From you?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.” She blushed harder when his eyebrow quirked. “And no puns on that one, either.”
He grinned, and she found herself smiling back, which felt suddenly natural and uncomplicated, a first where they were concerned.
Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he had been all along. “Apparently I owe you an apology.”
“Yeah?”
“For assuming you were like all the other guys Melanie has brought into her life. Since she was about fourteen.”
“Sounds like enough of a record that you felt comfortable making snap judgments.”
“They’d always worked before.”
“And then I fell right into the stereotype that first night.”
“Yeah, kind of.” She ate another bite of cereal, then put the spoon down. “One thing…”
“Ye-e-es?”
“You said you remember what happened. Between us. That night.”
“Ohh, yes.”
Her body reacted as if he’d touched her. His voice was so…
Steady, Alana. “You really thought I was someone else?”
“Uh, yeah.” He sighed deeply, though she could tell he was still enjoying himself. She wondered if he ever didn’t. He seemed like the kind of man who grabbed life by the glass half-full and hung on. Probably not hard to do when you were born into stability and got to stay there. “I remember nothing after leaving the party. When I came to in bed with you, it was dark. I assumed you were the woman I’d been talking to at the party. She’d been very…friendly.”
Alana sent him a look of schoolmarm disapproval which made him chuckle, which made her feel as if she’d won the lottery.
“I put pieces together and decided I’d brought her—i.e., you—home and that we’d been at it all night, I just didn’t remember.” His voice dropped lower. “Given how good you looked and felt next to me, I wanted to make sure there’d be something I would remember.”
“Oh…I see.” She really needed to concentrate on Raisin Bran or she’d turn into mush and pour onto the floor.
“But when I couldn’t wake you up, it seemed selfish and vaguely perverted to satisfy myself, so I just—”
“Yes, I know.”
“And now…” He grinned wickedly. “You owe me.”
“What?” She stopped melting instantly, stiffened in her chair. “You can’t be serious.”
“Alana.”
He’d gotten her. Again. Once more, she was walking the Sawyer tightrope, always about to fall off one side or the other. “Right. You were kidding.”
“I’m sorry.” He gave her an unbearably sexy sidelong look. “I’ve been teasing you too much. But it’s been a long time since anyone thought I was trouble and it’s kind of fun.”
“For you, maybe.”
“C’mon, you’re not loving every minute of your time with me?”
She was, that was the problem. “I have decided you’re an okay guy.”
“Something in particular tipped you off?”
“Melanie promises you’ve been telling the truth. And I can sort of piece together what you said and make sense of it. And she said you…can afford to live here.”
He moved uncomfortably. “Oh. Yeah. That.”
“You didn’t want me to know?”
“It’s more fun when people don’t.”
“Why?”
“Assumptions.” The playful look was fading from his face. “Those snap judgments you love so much.”
She nodded, slid off the stool and took her unfinished cereal to the sink, afraid she was about to discover he was such a good guy that he didn’t want to be associated with the immediately—though shallowly—appealing aspects of wealth and power, that he wanted people to judge him for who he was, not what he had or represented.
Sawyer Kern was starting to seem too good to be true. Not in a choir-boy way, not at all, because he had that mischievous sense of humor and bad-boy sexuality spicing up what appeared to be solid character. Maybe even depth. A fabulous and rare combination.
Which meant he was perfect for Melanie.
Which meant the only thing Alana would accomplish by staying was to get in the way of her sister’s happiness.