Lover Undercover (McCade Brothers 1)

“You are. You couldn’t be more off base saying Trevor’s attracted to me…or someone like me. This sexy, sassy stripper spent several hours alone with him in an interview room and I never picked up even the slightest vibe of interest. He was all business. Trust me, I’m not his type.”

“He was all business because he was working.”

“Yeah, right. He was working 99.9 percent of the time you spent with him. Was he all business?”

Stacy’s assessing gaze traveled over her, making her acutely aware of her bed-hair and the tender, red skin along her neck caused by Trevor’s beard.

“I think not,” Stacy finally said with a sly smile. “It’s you he wants. Maybe he doesn’t know you completely—yet—not your innermost hopes and fears. You’ll have to decide whether to trust him with those.”

Chapter Fifteen

A good night’s sleep and a full Monday of yoga classes brought Kylie no closer to solving her Trevor quandary. She was still doing battle with herself when she climbed the stairs to her apartment, stopping at the landing to appreciate the last soft gasps of lavender twilight surrendering to night. But when she opened the door, a not-so-soft gasp burst from her lungs.

Candles flickered from strategic points throughout the living room. The sofa and coffee table had been transformed into a cozy dining spot for two, complete with white tablecloth, a centerpiece of long-stemmed red roses, place settings, and more candles. The tangy, spicy aroma of Stacy’s famous lasagna—her sister’s only claim to culinary excellence—wafted from the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled.

Stacy strode through the archway carrying a salad bowl, spotted Kylie, and stopped in her tracks.

“Hi, Ky. Didn’t you get my message?”

Voice mail. Shoot. She needed to check hers more often. “No, I came straight home after my last class. What’s”—she gestured around the room—“all this?”

Stacy continued to the coffee table and set the salad down, then ran a fingertip over one of the velvety blossoms. “I’m fixing dinner for someone.”

Her eyebrows lifted. Stacy didn’t do romantic home-cooked meals. For anyone. Ever. “Someone?”

Stacy straightened and shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “For Ian.” Her gaze dropped to the roses, and a sappy smile curved her lips. “He sent these. Couldn’t you just die?”

Yeah, she could. “They’re beautiful,” she mumbled, still astounded by the notion of her sister getting soft-eyed over a dozen roses.

“Aren’t they? Here, read the card.” Stacy extended her hand, the small card held between her fingers. Kylie took it and read, “Congratulations on the new job. Now the rest of the world will see what entranced me from the moment I met you.”

“Holy smokes, did you…?”

Stacy practically jumped up and down, despite the cast. “Yes! Remember the audition I went on almost a month ago, for the pilot about the Vegas showgirls?”

She didn’t exactly remember, but she nodded her head anyway, already thrilled for her twin.

“I got the part! Can you believe it? I’ll be dancing and acting—it’s like all my career dreams coming true at once!”

She rushed forward and hugged her twin. “That’s wonderful! I knew this would happen for you. I never doubted…oh, my God, what about your leg?”

“Not a problem,” Stacy replied, obviously already having contemplated the question. “Wardrobe and rehearsals don’t start for another eight weeks. That’s plenty of time. I’ll be good as new.”

Kylie sent a quick prayer of thanks to the universe before she sagged onto the sofa. “Fabulous. Excellent. I’m so happy for you. Hey, does this mean you’re quitting Deuces?”

“I think so. I mean, I don’t intend to leave them in the lurch, but…can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Then it hit her. Ian knew about this before her, and Stacy eagerly anticipated a celebratory evening with him. Sometime during the last few days, she’d slipped a notch in her sister’s hierarchy. The realization hurt, but in a strange way, it was also a relief. Keeping her voice neutral, she carefully probed the subject. “I guess you told Ian the good news?”

“He called right after I got off the phone with my agent. I wanted to tell you first, Ky, but I was so excited, I just couldn’t hold back. After I spilled the news he was so genuinely excited and happy for me—not in a superficial ‘flatter her and get in her pants’ kind of way—I couldn’t resist inviting him for dinner. I hope you don’t mind?”

“No,” she answered honestly, “of course not. I’m proud of you, and also glad you decided to give Ian a chance.”

“Good, because he just called and told me he’ll be here in about ten minutes.” Stepping around the table, she headed toward the archway leading to the kitchen. “I need to put the garlic bread in.”

She followed Stacy into the kitchen. The clutter of cooking paraphernalia confirmed her sister had gone all out over the meal. The amazing scents intensified when Stacy opened the oven and slid the tray of garlic bread inside. Her stomach grumbled again—loudly.

“I guess I was supposed to make myself scarce this evening?” The thought of going out made her cringe. She’d showered at the studio after her classes, bundled her hair into a sloppy knot at the back of her head, and changed into a white tank top and loose gray sweats. No makeup whatsoever. Not even a swipe of mascara or a film of lip gloss. Her gym bag hung from one shoulder and her oversize purse from the other. She looked like a bag lady.