Jennifer Lewis - The Kincaids - New Money

Already she felt a smile creep across her lips. Who could stay serious when confronted with such a vision? “What serious face?”

“Much better.”

They ate an enormous breakfast in the 1950s-style diner, served by the owner who had probably been doling out grits since the 1950s. He made a big fuss of both RJ and Brooke, treating them like visiting royalty. His great-granddaughter, aged about seven, brought them flowers she’d picked in the garden and handed the bouquet to Brooke. “You’re very pretty.”

Brooke smiled. “You’re very pretty, too. And I’m impressed with the standard of service here. You don’t get flowers and compliments every day with breakfast.” When the little girl had skipped back outside she whispered, “I wonder if they pay her to flatter the guests.”

“It’s a good strategy. Maybe The Kincaid Group should try it out on our customers.” Humor twinkled in his eyes. “On the other hand, most of our clients aren’t nearly as easy on the eyes so it might come across as phony.”

“Oh, please.” She wanted to protest that she wasn’t pretty, but she didn’t want to appear to be fishing for more compliments. She’d certainly never felt prettier in her life. “I hope you don’t have anything too strenuous planned for this morning. I’m not sure I’ll be able to move after that fantastic meal.” Perfectly crisp bacon, golden scrambled eggs, freshly baked rolls and spicy fried potato. And the ubiquitous bowl of grits.

“We’ll save the hike to the summit for this afternoon then. How about we stroll to the lake and pretend we’re fishing?”

“Sounds good.”

She had no idea how good. While they’d been relaxing in the diner, a member of staff had packed the trunk of the Suburban with an icebox of chilled beer and a packed lunch.

“I feel like elves are following close behind us waiting on us hand and foot.”

“Just takes a little organizing.”

Again, Brooke wondered if he did this sort of thing often. Bringing girls up to the cabin and scheming with all the locals to pamper and spoil them. Maybe right now the people in the diner were shaking their heads and clucking their tongues and discussing how long “this one” would last.

How long would it last?

RJ opened her car door, always the perfect gentleman. Right now she didn’t feel like his admin at all. It was almost impossible to imagine showing up at the office on Monday and going through his in-box. On the other hand she could imagine any number of intriguing things that could happen between now and Monday.

RJ seemed like a different person than when they left. For the first time since his father’s death he appeared truly relaxed, his face crinkling into smile lines rather than the frown he’d worn so much lately. His broad shoulders looked at ease, not tight with tension.

She felt different, too. Their night of passion had awakened something inside her. She was no virgin but she’d certainly never experienced pleasure like that before. This morning she’d grown into a more deeply sensual person than she was yesterday. Colors were brighter and smells sweeter and even the air tasted bright and crisp as champagne.

By Monday they’d both be different people, one way or another. Her fantasy of a relationship with RJ was coming true and happiness seemed right within her grasp.

Though if it didn’t work out, if this weekend was all they had, she’d have the agony of knowing just what she was missing—for the rest of her life.

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