“A job with perks. I like that.”
“Considering you’re a world traveler, I don’t doubt it,” she said with a grin.
From across the room a loud burst of male laughter was followed by distinctly feminine giggles. “What sort of advice do you give these kids?” Mike gestured in the direction of the carefree teens.
When was the last time he’d been that carefree? he wondered and immediately realized the incongruity of the question. He went out of his way to keep his life unencumbered by ties or commitments, yet lately he felt more burdened than ever before.
“They write in asking about how to deal with life. Friendship in some cases, love in others.”
“And you answer with the voice of experience?”
“Hardly.” She blushed a becoming shade of pink.
More like the voice of inexperience? Suddenly he wondered—about Carly, Pete, Carly and Pete— about a lot more than he had a right to know.
“I can’t be late for that meeting.” She not so subtly changed the topic.
“School appointment?” he asked.
She shook her head. “A publisher contacted me through the magazine. They’d like me to consider turning my columns into a self-help type of book.”
“I’m impressed.”
She waved away his compliment. “Good thing this shouldn’t take long. Black double-breasted tuxedos, white shirt, wing-tipped shoes and black bow ties and cummerbunds. What could be simpler?”
“Or more boring.”
She tilted her head backward and glared up at him. “What is that supposed to mean?” Fire flashed in her dark eyes, an unbelievable contrast to the controlled woman who’d sat with Peter and bartered over wedding arrangements.
The simmering passion intrigued him, made him want to dig deeper, beyond the exterior to the woman beneath. “Ever hear of color?” He deliberately baited her. “Or do you want the wedding party to resemble the Sunday Times?”
“Mike...”
“Sorry. Bridesmaids dresses bring in color, right? What would you pick? Pink?” He shook his head. “Too childish. There’s yellow...”
“Mike.”
“Peach.”
“Mike.”
“Or my personal favorite, purple.” He eyed her intently. “Which is it?”
“White.”
He groaned aloud. “Your choice?” he asked. Not a chance in hell. Behind those rigid lists and schedules lurked a woman brimming with passion and fire. He’d bet his favorite camera on it.
More than once he’d ignited sparks in those expressive brown eyes. Sparks he’d yet to notice between Carly and her fiancé. His brother, he harshly reminded himself. “White,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Not my choice exactly. I wasn’t sure. Peter wanted elegant, my mother wanted formal, so we...”
“Compromised,” he finished for her. “It’s a good thing you’re so compliant.”
“You make me sound like a well-behaved pet. Are you looking to start trouble?”
Looking for trouble? No. Looking for a glimpse of the untapped sensuality that sizzled beneath the conservative facade? Definitely. “Of course not,” he said.
“Good. I just pick my battles carefully.”