Page 19 of Not Quite Perfect

“I’m not lying.”

Technically, I wasn’t. Ihadswallowed wrong. She just didn’t need to know why.

She shook her head andtsked. “For my sake, can you at least try to be polite to David?”

“I’m polite to everyone!”

The other thing she didn’t need to know was justhowpolite I’d been to him. How many times I’d saidplease.

Please fuck me. Please make me come. Please. Please. Please.

If that wasn’t polite, I didn’t know what was.

She picked up the remote, muted the TV, and turned to face me. “I get the impression you don’t like him much.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked, unable to meet her probing gaze.

“I saw the way you reacted at the wedding. You looked horrified to find out Richard had a son.”

“That’s not true.”

Itwastrue. But only because less than eight hours earlier I’d had my new stepbrother’s dick in my mouth. But I figured the less said about that the better.

“Richard could have had eighteen kids and I couldn’t have cared less.”

“Then why don’t you like him?”

“I like him just fine.” I shoved another handful of popcorn into my mouth and lifted my chin defiantly as I chewed.

She stared at me, her shrewd eyes assessing. “Oh!” she gasped after several seconds. “You don’thateDavid. You fancy him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It seemed I was saying that a lot lately. I was beginning to wonder if maybe I didn’t know whatIwas talking about, because everyone seemed to be able to see right through me.

She scooted closer and laid her hand on my knee. “Vicky, he’s your brother. You know nothing can ever happen between you two, right? Think of what people would say.”

“Which people?” I asked, ignoring everything else she’d said for the time being.

“Well, everyone. My friends, your friends, his colleagues at Thackeray. It’s a terrible scandal waiting to happen.”

“Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. But even if I did, let me be clear: David Carstairs is not my brother. Drew, Theo, and Alex are my brothers. David is your husband’s son, and that’s all.” I took a deep breath, pushing my next words out through gritted teeth. “He’s nothing to me.”

Before I could get the last word out, I felt traitorous tears stinging my eyes. I could tell myself in the lonely recesses of my soul that David meant nothing to me, but to say the words aloud was something else entirely.

It nearly broke my heart to hear them.

All at once, I pushed up off the couch and grabbed the empty bottle and my glass. “I need more wine to deal with Annalise Keating and her ragtag team of wannabe lawyers. Can I get you anything?” I asked over my shoulder as I practically raced out of the room.

* * *

I watchedDavid approach from across the quad, unable to hold back my smile. After the discussion with my mother the night before, I’d debated whether or not to cancel. And then all this morning, I’d wondered if I’d built him—and the way I’d felt about him—up in my head. But now, as he drew nearer, the warm tingling sensation taking up root in my belly told me I hadn’t. He was as effortlessly handsome as I recalled.

“Hey, you.” He leaned in and set a feather-light kiss on my cheek.

My knees wobbled, and I tried not to melt into a puddle at his feet. “Hey back,” I said, returning the gesture.

David pulled away, and his eyes flicked between mine for a few seconds with uncertainty. “Sorry, was that okay? I didn’t even think about it. I just had to be near you.”

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