But he reminded himself that this was about Arabella, not him. She needed him, needed him desperately, and he was about to do what all brothers are supposed to do: step up.
He smelled her before he saw her. Surprised to discover that he remembered the faint floral scent of her expensive perfume lingering at the tattoo parlor for the rest of the day. It smelled like leaves falling to the earth.
He looked up to see her stand at his side, appearing like a wraith out of the mist, and immediately leaped to his feet, pulling out the high bar stool next to him. She nodded and sat, spotting the frosty ginger ale neatly placed in front of her seat, and took a long sip before saying anything.
That cloud of frost that surrounded her was almost tangible. The same air of untouchability that hit him that day when she walked into his shop. It made him shiver… but not in a bad way.
She turned to look at him. Her gaze cool and assessing, her voice modulated. “So?”
Clearly, she was tossing the ball into his court. Waiting to see what he would say or do. Fine. If she wanted to hand the reins over, he’d take them. He tilted his head in the direction of the lounge. “I booked a table. You hungry?”
She confirmed she was and got down from the bar stool with the grace of a long-legged lynx down a tree trunk and preceded him. Which he didn’t mind one bit, because it allowed him the opportunity to enjoy an appealing rear view, of her hair twisted up at the top of her head in that way women had, that made it look as if it had taken her all of two minutes, but which had probably been artfully arranged over half an hour.
Gold teardrops dangled from her ears, lightly brushing the tops of her slender shoulders. Today, the dress she was wearing was a deep green that reminded him of bottles, the kind good beer came in. And her narrow waist and flaring hips made him think of an entirely different type of bottle. This time, one that held his favorite, thirst-quenching soda.
Dustin felt his mouth go dry.
Her skirt was disappointingly long and demure, covering what he imagined would be spectacular knees and thighs. Her legs were encased in pantyhose just a shade darker than her rich skin, which made them look even longer and more shapely than they already were, and her feet were balanced upon shoes that looked almost too delicate to bear the weight of an adult woman. They gave her a few extra inches of height, but yet offered her no significant advantage, because even with her wearing them, he was half a head taller.
Stop gawking, stop gawking, stop gawking,he warned himself. This wasn’t a date; it was a business meeting. And the person who eventually held their mettle was the one who would hold the power.
He held out the chair for her, and she accepted it with a half-smile. He sat opposite her. Her hazel eyes held his without looking away.
Tension sat at the table like an uninvited guest.
“Why don’t we order first?” she suggested.
Bea glided over smoothly, as if she had been hovering, waiting on his signal. They both agreed they weren’t super hungry, so they ordered a couple platters of tapas and a few more drinks. Deciding to keep her company in not consuming alcohol, he ordered fresh-squeezed juices for both of them.
As soon as they were alone again, he allowed himself to examine her face. He had suspected that his brain had somehow embellished how attractive she was, his memory exaggerating the perfection of her face, the shape of her mouth, over the two days since they’d met. But that wasn’t so. She was inarguably as beautiful as he’d remembered. But this time there was a tautness around her mouth and eyes that spoke of tension. He wondered if it was meeting him that had her looking so rattled—or something else.
“You okay?”
Her brows flicked upward in surprise, as if she wasn’t often on the receiving of such concern. “Sure. Why?”
“You look a little… tense,” he said delicately. Dustin would hate for her to infer that she looked bad. Because she was anything but.
She shrugged. “Just have something on my mind, that’s all.”
“Work?” he asked sympathetically.
“I wish. Family issues.”
“The same family issues that have you looking for a husband?”
She gave him a look that said,I didn’t expect you to go there,and then shrugged again. “You could say that.”
Dustin could empathize, but not relate. He’d had a happy childhood, raised by parents who loved him and each other. He’d been devastated when he’d lost his mother at a young age, but his father had always been there for him. Even after his dad remarried when he was nineteen, he’d never felt that he wasn’t part of his father’s new family. And after the accident that killed his father, Dustin had become the rock for his siblings. As Arabella’s hospital bills mounted and his own fiancée took off, he gave up the condo he rented, moved into his stepmother’s home to cut costs down so he could offer even more financial support. With no rent or mortgage of his own and his car paid off, most of his income went towards his business’s upkeep and Arabella’s care.
Today, and everything that was to follow, was part of that sacrifice.
Their drinks arrived, and they each took a sip.
Briskly straightening her spine, Chantelle said, “Okay. Let’s get down to it, shall we? You called the meeting, so shoot.”
“I want you to know I called the fertility center to let them know their database had been breached. They’re looking into it.”
She squinted at him suspiciously. “What’s this, a shakedown? Are you threatening to blackmail me?”