Page 27 of The Best of Friends

Rebecca gave an expert head toss, then flashed Jonathan her best smile. “This is where you ask me to lunch.”

“Is it?” He dropped his latte cup into a nearby trash can and pointed toward a sign for the parking garage. “My car is that way.”

Five

REBECCA SIPPED HER MARTINI, then leaned toward David. “You’ll never guess who I ran into today.”

David reached for the bread basket and tore off a piece for himself. He knew he could take it all, if he wanted. Rebecca rarely ate carbs. She also wasn’t big on red meat, but as he’d invited her to dinner, he got to pick the place and he’d gone for steaks.

“Who?”

“Jonathan Mooney.”

He shook his head. “Don’t know the guy.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Of course you do. He’s friends with Mom and Dad, although he’s quite a bit younger. Tall, graying, handsome.”

“Like that will help me place him.”

“Fine. Pretend you know him.”

“Sure.”

She looked annoyed. “He visited several times when we were growing up. Not that you were there. You were away at prep school or college. Lucky you.”

Even as a kid, he’d known escaping home was the best way to get along with everyone. “You should have thought of it, too,” he said. “Asked to go to boarding school.”

She shuddered. “No, thanks. You should have stayed around to protect me.”

“When you were a kid, you hated me.”

She shifted in her seat. “Hate is strong. I found you incredibly annoying. You were so damned perfect.”

He’d been far from perfect, but he’d learned how to play the game. He reached for a second chunk of bread. “Why fight all the time?”

“To make a point.”

“No, thanks. I’d rather go do something.”

“Well, I’d rather be right.”

He chuckled. “There’s a surprise.”

She grabbed a small slice of bread, tore it into a half dozen pieces the size of sand grains, and carefully ate each one.

“I supposed I should be grateful you don’t hold a grudge,” she said with a sigh. “Or you wouldn’t have taken me in when I ran away.”

“I’m a great guy,” he said, leaning back in their booth. “You’re lucky to have me as your brother.”

She tilted her head. Her long blond hair fell over one shoulder. “Maybe I am.”

A man walking by glanced at her, did a double take, and nearly stumbled. Then he saw David watching and gave a quick shrug of an apology.

“You didn’t have to be so nice to me when I showed up in Australia,” she said. “You could have sent me away.”

“Not my style,” he said.

She’d arrived at two in the morning, exhausted, crying, and talking so fast he had no idea what she was saying. Something about hating Elizabeth and needing to get away and running out of money and a guy downstairs offering to pay her for sex.

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