Page 51 of The Winslow Brothers

She grabs her purse from the top of the table and skirts it to the other side, glaring at me as she goes. Her hips sway with the speed of her walk, and everything about the motion turns me on.

Combine that with how much her unexpected Cher reference makes me want to laugh, and I’m a steamy pile ofready to fuck.

But I’m confused. My hormones are raging, spiked up on the kind of adrenaline I was desperate to tap into with this sister the night of the bachelorette party. This is the way her twin, Belle, made me feel. That’s why I could have sworn it was her. But it’s not her; it’s Sophie. Theavailablesister.

Well now, Jude. That’s a horse of a different color.

“I’m sorry,” I call after her softly, hastening my step to catch up to her and grabbing gently at her elbow. “Really.”

She spins around to glare at me. “Your assumption just ruined my date.”

“Yes,” I say, taking all of the guilt without avoidance. That’s the good part about being the fall guy in a family of five kids, I suppose. I don’t shy away from responsibility, even if it’s uncomfortable. “And I really apologize. It was incrediblyrude of me to interrupt, even if you had been your sister. And inappropriate, I suppose, given how you know me. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea in the first place, but please, now that the damage is done, let me make it up to you.”

“How exactly do you plan to do that?” she challenges. “My date is already gone, and the night is effectively over. Unless you’ve got a time machine in your pocket, I’d say things are pretty much screwed.”

I squeeze my lips tightly in an effort not to laugh at her—because though she’s definitely being funny, I doubt any kind of amusement is the response she’s looking for—and hold up my hands in a semi-shrug.

“I don’t have a time machine. I wish I did because that would be really fucking cool, but even without it, the night doesn’t have to be over. He’s gone, but he’s not the only guy on the planet.” I slam my palm into my chest. “Hell, I’m one, and I’m standing right here. Spend the rest of the date with me.”

“That’s not how this works! That’s not how any of this works.” She shakes her head and turns to leave again, walking with determination toward the front door. The urge to reach out and stop her again is strong, but I know it’s not even remotely my right to touch her without permission either. My best bet is to try to keep up with her quickly churning legs and reason with her while we move.

“Why not?” I ask, positioning myself just off her flank as we climb the stairs to the main reception area of the restaurant. Heidi notices us, and her head tilts in concerned curiosity, but ultimately, she settles back behind the hostess stand when I glance back and offer a calm smile.

“Because you’re not part of the plan.”

“So?” I question. “Plans change. Things happen. And when they do, you make a new plan.”

“A new plan that includes going on a date with you?” She scoffs. “How convenient.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “It is convenient. That’s why you should do it. Give me a good reason why you shouldn’t.”

“Because you’re an exot—” She shakes her head briefly, sucking her lips into her mouth, but the cat’s already out of the bag and I already know what she was going to say.

Maybe, if I wereactuallyan exotic dancer, I’d be offended—though, knowing me, probably not. But the fact that that’s not even really what I do for a living only makes me want to beam.

“Ahh,” I breathe. “Too good to go on a date with adancer.”

“No,” she rushes to disagree, embarrassed. I almost have to laugh. She’s on the defensive now, and I kind of like the feel of stalking my prey.

She digs in her purse for her phone—at least I presume that’s what she’s after—and her body shivers in the bristling cold air of the sidewalk without any real barrier against the wind.

“I think that’s it. I think you’re embarrassed to go on a date with someone like me,” I challenge. At the same time, I work on pulling my own sport coat from my shoulders to place around hers since it seems she didn’t have standing on the sidewalk in the middle of winter waiting on a ride in her carefully crafted plans either.

“No, I’mnot.”

I smile and hold up the coat as a peace offering, and she eyes it closely. There’s hesitation, sure, but the overwhelming expression on her face is abject longing. And I don’t blame her. It’s fucking cold out here, and I’m not in a skimpy dress and heels.

Finally, she accepts it, giving me her back so I can set the coat across her tanned shoulders while she slips her arms into the sleeves. It drowns her delicate frame, but at the same time, it somehow seems made for her.

“Well, good. Now that we got that out of the way, there’s nothing else to debate. Let me run back in and grab the rest of my stuff from the table, and then we can go.”

“Go?” she asks, spinning around to face me. “Go where?”

“On our date.”

“But you didn’t even know you were going to see me tonight. How could you possibly have something planned?”

“I don’t,” I say with a shrug. “We’re going to make it up as we go along.”

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