Page 45 of The Man of the Hour

Sonia laughed. “Come on.”

When they emerged from the shower, Brendan toweled off and grabbed his boxers, but Sonia exited stark naked. Though he could barely take his eyes off her, he did glimpse his back in the mirror, covered in long red scratches. The hot water had stung his skin — in a good way.

Sonia followed his gaze and looked pleased. Beckoning to him, she led him down the stairs.

The house was beautiful and well-furnished. Sonia didn’t live alone; that much was clear. But Brendan couldn’t piece together who her roommate was — their age, their lifestyle. He eyed the elegant touches. Lacquered trays, blown-glass vases, an ornamental red and gold tea set. Velvet curtains, modern art. The look was settled and established, and there was clearly some money in the place.

“Diana’s been here,” Sonia said casually, as she showed him the living room. Now he could see the couch he’d bent her over, upholstered in green velvet with colorful silk pillows. “Ian, too. They came to visit in the winter. But you know that.”

Brendan wondered if Sonia had any inkling that the three of them had fallen into bed during that visit.

She tugged him into the kitchen, where the half-finished bottle of orange juice still sat on the counter. When she flicked the lights on, Brendan noticed a bouquet of stargazer lilies on the table. Two of them were mangled — definitely the flowers he’d given her.

It might be nothing personal, but he liked that she’d put them on display.

As she led him toward a door, she looked over her shoulder, that gorgeous smile lighting up her face. “Want to see the backyard? It’s my favorite part of the house.”

Distracted by her smile, Brendan nodded. “Absolutely.”

Opening the door, she strolled outside.

Brendan followed her into the brick-tiled backyard, where low shrubs edged a patio. Casually, Sonia stretched out on a lounge chair, naked and statuesque, and lit a candle on a small table. String lights hung overhead, highlighting her curves. “Join me?”

Shit. The patio was visible from the upper floors of the surrounding townhouses. Brendan quickly stepped back inside.

“Brendan?” Sonia called. “Brendan O’Brian…”

“Sshhh,” he hissed.

“Why are you shushing me? Is this another game?” She looked unbelievably tempting, lying naked in that chair, giving zero fucks. Her breasts tipped with pointed dark nipples, the smooth, curving triangle between her thighs…

“Sonia, just come inside,” he muttered.

“What? Why?” Turning, she narrowed her eyes at him.

Just then, a creak sounded — the front door opening. Brendan froze.

“Sonia?” called an older woman’s voice.

Her housemate.

High heels clicked on the kitchen floor as a petite woman in her seventies came into view. Elegantly dressed, she had bright dark eyes and sleek gray hair.

She jumped back when she saw Brendan, grabbing a broom from a corner and brandishing it.

“Jesus! Who the hell are you?”

“I’m here with Sonia,” he said quickly, holding up his hands. “We’re friends.”

The woman lowered the broom. “My God, you scared me! Why are you standing there in your underwear?” Her eyes narrowed, and the broom came up again. “Where’s Sonia?”

“I—” he began.

“I’m out here,” Sonia called from the patio. “This is Brendan, and he refuses to come outside.”

“Brendan, eh?” The woman’s eyes narrowed, looking him over. He could swear she was checking him out. “Brendan, thetwin?The charming brother of the groom-to-be? I knew you looked familiar.”

So did she, actually. But he couldn’t place where he’d seen her.

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