Page 18 of Greed

If I ever need an ego boost, my stepsister is ready to supply that.

“A leopard doesn’t change his spots,” I point out. “Let’s get that coffee brewing.”

She falls in step behind me as I start walking toward the kitchen. “I think a leopardcanchange his spots when he meets his match, Abby.”

I glance over my shoulder. “Not the leopard I was with last night. Besides, you know how important my career is to me. The last thing I need is a man who wears big shoes to distract me from that.”

CHAPTERNINE

Declan

“Sundays are meantto be a day of rest, Declan.”

I glance up from my desk to see one of my closest friends standing in the doorway of my office.

Holden Sheppard has been an integral part of my life since we met in middle school. Holden’s best friend at the time decided it was a good idea to challenge my buddy to a fistfight after school.

Neither of them knew how to throw a punch, so while they circled each other with their fists in the air, Holden and I started talking.

Our friendship was born from our mutual love of the New York Mets, but it was solidified when we headed upstate to the prestigious Buchanan School.

That’s where we met Rook Thorsen.

We raised hell in our teens, went to college together, and while Rook and I tackled law school, Holden took a position with his late grandparents’ candy empire. Eventually, Rook landed at his family’s law firm, and I gave up my law career to partner in business with my brother.

We’ve managed to maintain a close friendship that includes monthly poker games and frequent trips to a beach house that Holden has recently inherited.

“Rest?” I cock a brow. “What’s that?”

Holden lets out a laugh. “Tell me about it. I may not look the part, but I spent the last three hours at my office.”

I glance at the jeans and sweater he’s wearing. As my gaze drops to his bare left hand, I ask the question that is always on the tip of my tongue when I see him. “How are you doing?”

“I’m over my ex-wife.” He smiles. “So, feel free never to ask that question again.”

I raise both hands in mock surrender. “Excuse me for giving a shit about you.”

“I appreciate it.” He turns slightly to the left to look out one of the windows in my office. “You may not have noticed, but it’s quitting time, so let me buy you a burger and a beer.”

I glance toward the scene of the sun setting over Manhattan. The evening view of the city is one of the reasons I grabbed this office before Sean could.

“Sure, old man.”

He rakes a hand through his dark brown hair, his fingers skimming a few of the graying strands. It’s not full salt-and-pepper yet, but the look is good for him.

“The other day, a beautiful woman told me I look distinguished.”

I tilt my chin. “What beautiful woman? Does she work for you? If she does, that might explain the compliment.”

“She doesn’t.” He motions for me to stand. “I crossed her path at the market.”

“You crossed her path at the market,” I repeat his words slowly. “Did you take her home with you?”

“I walked her home,” he corrects me. “I carried her groceries. She tipped me a quarter for my trouble.”

“Ah,” I nod in understanding. “It’s your grandma’s friend, right? What’s her name again?”

The corners of his blue eyes squint as he smiles. “Mrs. Ruffat.”

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