When We Touch (The Heartbreak Brothers 5)

“I was brought up well.”

“Is that what they teach you at prep school?” she asked. “No wonder the world is full of rich charmers.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “And what did they teach you at school?”

“How to avoid rich charmers.”

He bit down a smile and clinked his glass against hers. “To rich charmers and fending them off.”

She smiled. “To spotting bullshit from a fifty mile radius.”

“You’re going to be spotting a lot of bullshit tonight,” he told her, putting his glass on the counter. “The place will be reeking of it.”

“Why are you going out to dinner with your family if you don’t like them?” she asked him. “Isn’t life too short?”

“I need their support to move forward on the single malt. They own part of the business.”

“And you and Nathan own the rest?”

“And my mother. She owns the majority share.”

Becca frowned. “So why do you need their agreement? Can’t you out vote them? I can’t see your mom going against you.”

“She always abstains. She has this thing about family being more important than anything.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s the guilt that she broke their family up, I don’t know. But unless I persuade Lawrence and Nina to agree, then the project is over.”

Becca bit down a smile. “Your mom is a hardass.”

“I know.” He raised an eyebrow. “And it’s damn annoying.”

She put her empty glass in the wet bar sink, and turned. “Now I know where you get it from. Take me out to dinner and let me meet your family. I have a feeling they’ll

make mine look like the Brady Bunch.”

Chapter Twelve

Daniel climbed out of the back seat, extending his hand to Becca. She grasped it, trying to exit the car as elegantly as possible, considering she was wearing a short dress and sexy high heels. It felt natural to keep their hands clasped together as they walked up the steps to Jessie’s Restaurant, an old colonial-style townhouse in the center of town.

Catching a glimpse of their reflections in the glass of the door, Becca swallowed hard. She looked like a different person in these clothes. More sophisticated and assured. In a weird way, she felt it, too.

Daniel was wearing a navy suit with slim pants that were expertly tailored to his body. With his pale blue shirt and burgundy tie he looked heartstoppingly handsome.

“You sure you want to do this?” he murmured as he pushed at the door. There was a quizzical expression on his face.

“Of course.” She smiled at him, not willing to show any weakness. “I’m hungry.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Don’t tell me that I didn’t warn you.”

There was this strange intimacy between them. Becca found herself liking it a little too much. Maybe it was the fact she’d driven over two hours to help him, or his confession about his illness that made her heart ache for his childhood self.

Or the fact that right now it seemed like them against the world. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem in any hurry to release her hand as they walked inside and he spoke quietly to the maître d’. She wasn’t exactly desperate to release his, either. She liked the warmth of his palm, the feeling of his fingers curled around hers. He had a firm grasp that made her feel secure.

“Ah, Mr. Carter.” The maître d’ gave Daniel a warm smile. “The rest of your party is already here. Let me show you to your table.”

He walked them toward a large circular table at the center of the restaurant. Daniel’s hold on her hand tightened a little as four people stood up. The man on the left was tall and slim – thin, even – his hair sandy and thick, and his long face tapered to a point at his chin. Next to him was a slim brunette, her dark hair was a cloud of waves to her shoulders. She was looking at Daniel with soft eyes, her lips slightly parted.

“Daniel.” The tall man nodded, then slid his gaze to Becca, his eyebrow lifting. “We were wondering who the sixth seat was for.”

“Lawrence.” Daniel kept his voice even. “This is Becca Hartson. Becca, this is my brother, Lawrence.” He gestured at the sandy haired man. Lawrence gave her a nod. “And next to him is Melissa.” He paused for the slightest of seconds. “His wife.”