Page 27 of Stepbrothers

“I’m a grown woman. I can do what I want.” She sprayed perfume on her wrists.

“I think we’ve established you’re not exactly trustworthy when it comes to making the right decisions about what you want to do.”

“Oh, change the record.” She rolled her eyes.

He snatched the perfume from her. “Put this away, we’re dancing.”

“No we’re not.”

“We are.” He took her bag and laid it on the table, next to her mother’s.

“Hugh, I…” Again, she looked at Parker. He had one elbow on the bar as he sipped a glass of red wine and watched her with hawk-like eyes. “I don’t want to dance.”

“Tough.” Hugh circled her waist and dragged her into the throng of dancers.

At that moment the music went down a notch. Couples came together, including the bride and groom.

“Let’s just leave it,” Clarice said. “And get a drink.”

“I’ll get you a drink in a minute.” He pulled her to him, held her right hand in his left, and set one hand on her waist.

His hold was firm, his body warm, and his white shirt had the softness of quality under her palm. He smelled of aftershave, something a little spicy but different to Parker’s.

“You helped with the surprise,” Clarice asked, “that Simon was planning?”

“Yes.” He smiled, something he didn’t do often, she’d noticed. “He wanted to put balloons and petals around some photos of when they’d first met in their suite. Hotel staff wouldn’t let him do it without a family member present.”

“I see.” She paused as he moved them around. “Not that it was long ago that they met. Still fresh in their memories.”

“I take your point.” He glanced at his father. “But I haven’t seen him so happy in years. Losing Mom took its toll. He swore he’d never love again.”

“I hope she doesn’t hurt him. He seems nice.”

“He obviously thinks she’s worth the risk.”

“I suppose she is.” Clarice paused. “How long ago did you lose your mother?”

“Eight years now. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So are we.” He swallowed. “We were all at university. Different years. We saw a lot of the pain, the struggle, but it was Dad who cared for her twenty-four seven.”

“I’m sure she’d be very proud of her three sons. You’re all doing so well.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

She stared up at him. His face had softened, and it suited him. His dark eyes had lost their mineral glint, and his lips weren’t in a tight line.

“And your father?” he asked.

“Cancer, too.”

His mouth downturned. “I think my father told me that. I’m sorry.”

“What I’m most sorry about is I can’t remember him, not really, not actual memories. I was so young.”

“That must have been hard.”

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