Page 8 of A Crane Family New Year

She watched as he crossed the room to meet a dark-haired woman in a stunning floor-length black sparkling gown. He handed over the remaining glass of pink champagne at the same moment Reese and Merina Crane leaned in to greet them.

Shit.

Chloe would never be invited back.

Chapter Three

Zander had never been struck by lightning before, but he imagined it was similar to the way he felt now. When he’d been crossing the room, a flash of silver had caught his eye. Followed by auburn waves that flowed like silk. He’d been pulled in as if by tractor beam—especially when his eyes had locked onto legs ending in a pair of high-heeled shoes. She was undeniably woman from the back, and when she’d turned and stolen his drink, he’d lost his breath. She was stunning—exquisite. Possibly the most beautiful woman he’d seen, maybe ever.

His mind was fuzzy and his fingers were numb when he’d handed the pink champagne to his sister. Now, he stood stock still, his neck prickling with an odd sort of premonition. He wanted nothing more than to turn and take her in again. To allow his eyes to feast on the gorgeous creature he’d encountered…but not until he was out from under Merina Crane’s assessing stare.

“…so glad you both could make it,” she was saying. “Jaylyn, I love your ring. One of your designs?”

“Yes, actually. Thank you.” Jaylyn’s smile was genuinely proud.

“Zander.” Reese gave his cousin’s palm a firm squeeze. “Good to see you.”

“And you.” Reese and Zander had formality in common. They were both firstborns, both had managed to turn serious into an art form. The difference between them was that Reese was the CEO of a burgeoning hotel business whereas Zander Crane had made a name in the art world on his own. Yes, he employed a team and in no way was a one-man show, but there was no board of directors to please. His wasn’t a publicly traded company, which was the way he liked it. There was a certain amount of freedom to being self-contained.

“How is the apartment treating you?” Reese asked while Merina and Jaylyn made light conversation. “Plenty of space to work from home?”

“Hardly. I’m considering taking on a separate office space.” There was only so much he could do from his kitchen table. When Emily had been alive, he’d worked from his laptop. That allowed him to have lunch with her, to enjoy a pick-me-up coffee—tea for her—and talk about his work and hers. Emily had been a painter, and he a curator. Theirs had been a match made in heaven.

“I understand that.”

Zander enjoyed traveling for work, but the instances had become rarer and rarer. Most companies merely sent photos or did live video walk-throughs of their spaces. Plus, now that he was in the States, he could send his UK-based team to anywhere requiring an in-person visit overseas.

“I am eager for the art update to the Crane in Chicago. Art isn’t my forte.”

“I’ll say,” Merina chimed in. She pressed manicured nails to her decollate. “I’m the hotel owner with the eye for style, bohemian though it may be.”

Reese leaned over to place a kiss on his wife’s mouth, and Jaylyn smirked up at Zander. They had been talking about Reese and Merina last night over dinner—about how the media had made their marriage—and divorce—to each other a circus, and their second marriage more like the Second Coming. The situation had been ripe for fodder: Reese Crane, CEO of the modern glass Crane Hotels, and Merina Van Heusen, who owned the artsy boutique Van Heusen Hotel that had quite literally risen from the ashes of the Great Chicago Fire of 1871.

“I’m happy to help.” Zander had been itching to update Crane Hotels for years. Its clean, sharp modern lines and whitewashed lobbies and rooms were the perfect blank canvas for art that was both modern and colorful. He’d already gathered a few pieces for Reese’s approval—Zander wanted to be involved personally in this upgrade. “We can meet up after the holiday. Whenever you’re available.”

“I’m available now.” Reese shrugged.

“No, he isn’t. No work tonight.” Merina’s eyebrow twitched in warning. “It’s an evening of celebration, and no one should be on the clock. Zander, we’ll have to introduce you around.”

He turned to look over his shoulder to where the redhead had been standing moments ago. She wasn’t there any longer.

“But first, a scotch,” Reese interjected. “I notice you don’t have a drink yet.”

“A woman mistook me for the waitstaff and relieved me of my glass.” Zander smoothed a hand over the front of his shirt. “I can’t say I minded giving it up to her.”

“Is that so?” Reese asked.

“Who stole your drink?” Merina asked, sounding far more inquisitive than her husband.

Zander didn’t have to look hard before spotting her again. The light hit the crystals on her silver dress, making her sparkle. The frock was tasteful, and she was mostly covered, but there was no missing her curves. Upon a second look, he saw that her hair was deep red with brown undertones, curling around small but strong shoulders. She had a heart-shaped face, wide, hazel eyes—at least they’d appeared wide with embarrassment the moment she’d realized he wasn’t a waiter.

She’d drawn him in when he’d least expected. There’d been a jolt of mutual attraction between them if he wasn’t mistaken. And damn, had that felt good. Especially after not having felt it for so long.

“The woman with the red hair. Silver dress,” he answered.

From across the room, she laughed, a tinkling chime of a sound. She moved one of the waves off her shoulder, the movement shifting his attention to a long, elegant, pale neck. His pulse spiked.

“That’s Chloe Andrews,” Merina said. “She runs Isa’s agency. She’s probably over there telling Isa and Rachel how embarrassed she is that she stole your drink. And she’s here alone tonight.”

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