Cassie Miles - Snow Blind

“Speaking of thank-you notes,” he said, “I deserve something for getting you a job with the Three Assses.”

The remarkable sunset was beginning to fade, along with her feeling that life was a great big bowl of cheerfulness. “Number one, you didn’t get me the job. You told me about the opening, but I got hired on my own merits.”

“It didn’t hurt to have me in your corner.”

Alex was a second-year associate attorney, not one of the top dogs at the firm. His opinion about hiring wouldn’t have influenced the final decision. “Number two, if you want to stay here at the condo, I’m sure it can be arranged. You could teach me to ski.”

He gave her an evil grin. “Like when we were kids and I taught you how to ride a bike.”

“I remember.” She groaned. “I zoomed downhill like a rocket and crashed into a tree.”

“You were such a klutz.”

“I was five. My feet barely reached the pedals.”

“You begged me for lessons.”

That was true. She’d been dying to learn how to ride. “You were thirteen. You should have known better.”

His dark blue eyes—the same color as hers—narrowed. “I got in so much trouble. Mom grounded me for a week.”

And Sasha still had a jagged scar on her knee. “Way to hold a grudge, Alex.”

“What makes you think you have the authority to invite me to stay here?”

“I don’t,” she said quickly, “but I’m sure Damien wouldn’t mind.”

“So now you speak for him? Exactly how close are you two?”

Not as close as everybody seemed to think. Sure, Damien Loughlin was a great-looking high-powered attorney and eligible bachelor. And, yes, he’d chosen her to work with him on Arcadia. But there was nothing between them. “I’d have to call him and ask for an okay, but I don’t see why he’d say no.”

“You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger.”

Alex made a quick pivot and stalked back into the condo. Reluctantly, she followed, hoping that he wouldn’t take her up on her invite. Spending five days with Alex would be like suffocating under an avalanche of negativity.

Muttering to himself, he prowled through the large space. On the opposite side of the sunken conversation pit was an entire wall devoted to electronics—flat-screens, computers and gaming systems.

“Cool toys,” her brother said as he checked out the goodies. “Damien is the one who usually stays here, isn’t he?”

“Makes sense,” she said with a shrug. “He’s handled most of the legal work for Arcadia.”

“He’s kept everybody else away from the project.”

“It’s his choice,” she said defensively. The four Arcadia investors were rich, powerful and—in their own way—as eccentric as Mr. Westfield had been about his cats. They insisted on one lawyer per case. Not a team. The only reason she was in the room was that somebody had to take notes and get the coffee.

“Binoculars.” Alex held up a pair of large black binoculars. “I wonder what Damien uses these for.”

“He mentioned stargazing.”

“Grow up, baby sister. His balcony is directly across from the Gateway Hotel. I’ll bet he peeks in the windows.”

“Ew. Gross.”

Carrying the binoculars, he marched across the room and opened the balcony door. “The guests at that hotel are super rich. I heard there’ll be a couple of movie stars and supermodels at the big gala on Saturday.”

“Alex, don’t.” She felt as if she was five years old, poised at the top of the steep hill on a bike that was too big, destined for a crash. By the time she was on the balcony, he was already aiming the binocular lenses. “Please, don’t.”

“Come on, this is something your darling Damien probably does every night before he goes to bed.”

“No way. And he’s not my darling Damien.”

“I’ve heard otherwise.” He continued to stare through the binoculars. “I’m actually kind of proud. Kudos, Sasha. You’re sleeping your way to the top.”

She wasn’t surprised by gossip from the office staff, but Alex was her brother. He was supposed to be on her side. “I’m not having sex with Damien.”

“Don’t play innocent with me. I’m your brother. I know better. I remember what happened with Jason Foley.”

Jason had been her first love in high school, and she’d broken up with him before they’d gone all the way. But that wasn’t the story he’d told. Jason had blabbed to the whole school that she had sex with him. He’d destroyed her reputation and had written a song about it. “How could you—?”

“Trashy Sasha.” Her brother recalled the title to the song. “No big deal. You could do a lot worse than Damien Loughlin.”

“That’s enough. You should go. Now.”

He lowered the binoculars and scowled disapprovingly at her. “Even if you weren’t having sex with him, what did you think was going to happen this week? You were going to stay here alone with him.”

“It’s a five-bedroom condo. I have my own bedroom, bathroom and a door that locks.” And she didn’t have to justify her behavior. “I want you to leave, Alex.”

“Fine.” He set the binoculars down, stuck his hands into his overcoat pockets and left the balcony.

She followed him across the condo, fighting the urge to kick him in the butt. Why did he always have to be so mean? Alex was the only person in her family who still lived in Denver, and they worked in the same office. Would it kill him to be someone she could turn to?

At the door, Alex pivoted to face her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You got that right.”

“You’re too damn naive, Sasha. You look around and see rainbows. I see the coming storm. This condo is a first-class bachelor pad, and Damien is a smooth operator. You’d better be careful, sis.”

“Goodbye, Alex.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, she flipped the dead bolt, grabbed the handle on her suitcase and wheeled it across the condo into the first bedroom she found in the hallway. Her brother was a weasel for trying to make her feel guilty when she had every reason to be happy about this assignment. The fact that Damien and the other partners trusted her enough to let her take notes at these meetings was a huge vote of confidence. She wasn’t going to be a paralegal for the rest of her career, and she’d need the support of the firm to take classes and get the training she needed to become a mediator.

She unpacked quickly. In the closet, she hung the garment bag with the dress she’d be wearing to the gala—a black gown with a deeply plunging neckline. Too plunging? Was she unconsciously flirting? Well, what was she supposed to do? Shuffle around in a burka?

Across the hall from her bedroom, she found a hot tub in a paneled room with tons of windows and leafy green plants. Damien had mentioned the hot tub, and the idea of a long, soothing soak was one of the reasons she’d agreed to this trip. She’d even brought her bathing suit. Following posted instructions, she turned on the heat for the water.

On her way to the kitchen, she paused in the dining area by the back windows. On a bookshelf, under a signed serigraph of a skier by LeRoy Neiman, was a remote control. She punched the top button and smooth, sultry jazz came on. Another remote button dimmed the lights. Another turned on the electric fireplace in the conversation pit. Though she didn’t want to think of this condo as a bachelor pad, the lighting and sexy music set a classic mood for seduction.

In the kitchen, she checked out the fridge. The lower shelf held four bottles of pricey champagne. Not a good sign. It was beginning to look as if Alex the grump had been right, and Damien had more than business on his mind.

She should have seen it coming. This was Jason Foley all over again, strumming his twelve-string and singing about Trashy Sasha. If she wanted to squash rumors before they started, she’d get a room at the hotel. As if she could afford to stay there. And why should she run off with her tail between her legs? She hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of.