Manhattan Millionaire: Book Three in the Kendall Family Series Read online

  Feeling my cheeks warm, I dip my chin as my eyes skate across the hardwood floor. “That’s good.”

  “Can I get you a glass of wine? I’m sure Sharlo has white if you prefer that over red.”

  “Red’s good with me,” I reply, meeting his gaze.

  I trail behind him into the galley kitchen where Sharlo and James neglect the pasta long enough to greet him before he tends to the bottle of wine. The way he makes himself at home, knowing exactly where to find the bottle opener and glasses in the hand-crafted cabinets without second guessing himself brings an eased smile to my lips. Maybe if Sharlo was able to resist his sexy charm and remain friends with him all this time, there’s hope for me too.

  After handing me a goblet filled with the burgundy liquid, he lifts his own goblet between us, giving me one of his enduring, dimpled smiles. “Here’s to your first of many Sunday Fundays.”

  A warm tingle slips down my spine as I tap his goblet with mine.

  “We’re here!” my little sister yells from the front door. “You can blame Charlie for being so late!”

  I’m the closest level to being giddy that anyone will witness when I leave the kitchen to greet Evelyn and Charlie as they’re removing their leather coats. It’s the first time I’ve seen them together since his tour was completed, and they both look surprisingly well rested. I roll my eyes when they cast each other the same googly-eyed gaze before their lips meet for a kiss.

  Despite the fact that I once accused her of only being with him because of his money, they’ve proved their relationship is deeper than some fling even though they only knew each other less than a year before they decided to get married. They aren’t usually as touchy-feely as James and Sharlo when other people are around, although I often catch him giving her wanton looks that are enough to make me blush.

  I clear my throat when the kiss continues.

  “Sof!” Evelyn squeals, breaking away and running to me for a tackling hug. With an oomph and a giggle, I give her a one-armed squeeze, trying not to spill my wine. For the longest time we weren’t anywhere near this close, and it warms my heart to feel so welcomed. As hard as it was to lose both our parents before we could provide them with a house filled with grandchildren, at least there’s a good chance our family can become strongly knit once more.

  “Welcome to New York!” she sings, leaning back and beaming in a way that reminds me of when she was little.

  Just as with James and our other two brothers, my baby sister’s thick chestnut hair and big brown eyes inherited from Mom are a stark contrast to the blonde hair and blue eyes Angie and I got from Dad, but I swear her freckles have spread since I last saw her at Christmas. Wearing a gray sweater that falls off one shoulder paired with black leggings and a ton of jewelry, she fits the part of a rockstar’s wife with a fun flair and her own style. And whatever perfume she’s wearing smells amazing.

  “You look great,” I tell her, yanking on a lock of her wavy hair. “The tour must’ve gone well.”

  “It did, but it’s good to be home,” Charlie says behind her, removing his knit beanie before attempting to tame his grown-out locks with both hands.

  No matter how many times I see my brother-in-law in person, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the shock of being related to someone with his degree of fame and level of beauty. Bigger than Nolan, but not as massive as James, his fit body is more easily compared to a work of art. I’ll never forget how hard it was to control my reaction the first time I witnessed him without a shirt the weekend of their wedding when they threw a party in the hot tub. He’s so perfectly sculpted that I was too embarrassed by my own imperfections to join them.

  “Good to see you,” he says before gathering me in a one-armed hug and kissing my cheek. “You look beautiful tonight.” I try not to shudder with the low rumble of the voice as he’s pressed up against me, even though any other woman would lose her shit if she was in my shoes.

  The house becomes alive with conversation as Sharlo and Evelyn greet each other, and the men catch up. As much as I try to ignore the fact that being the only single person along with Nolan feels like a blatant set-up, it becomes glaringly obvious each time one of my siblings makes a physical connection with their partner, and the two of us are left to squirm. All at once I remind myself that Avery would probably be here if she wasn’t out of the country on business, and I have no right to continue wishing I could have something more with Nolan.

  The tension eases from my bones once we’re all seated for dinner and listening to Evelyn’s stories of life on the road as we devour the delicious spaghetti carbonara and homemade garlic bread. Spending quality time with two of my five siblings has already made the move to New York worth all the hassle involved in relocating, and I find myself nostalgic for the days when we’d gather for meals on the farm and the challenges of life weren’t as complicated.

  Long after we’re done eating desert and our string of conversations has begun to wear thin, we all help to clear the table. Rolling up his sleeves, Nolan fills the sink with soapy water and starts washing everything by hand while the others start a card game in the other room. I grab a clean towel and help him dry, admiring the fact that he had started the task without anyone having to ask.

  “I guess you weren’t kidding about only keeping up appearances,” I tease after a few moments of comfortable silence. “The only other time I’ve ever seen a guy doing dishes was growing up with my brothers.”

  “Grams had me washing glasses at the bar as soon as I was old enough to reach the sink. She always told me that she wanted to make sure I grew up a gentlemen and not an entitled brat.”

  “If you ask me, it seems she did a stellar job.”

  He’s smirking when he glances my way. “Shar mentioned you didn’t visit home much after high school. It must be strange being around your brother and sister after all this time.”

  My spine straightens when I suspect he’s fishing for the reason I stayed away. That’s one conversation I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to have with Nolan, even though we’re only friends.

  “I didn’t fully appreciate the value of family when I was younger,” I say wistfully, reminded of all the time I could’ve had with Dad before he died if I hadn’t been so stubborn.

  For years after graduation, I wanted nothing to do with my family. James was nearly crippled by guilt after what Bobby Krager did to me because he’s the one who suggested Bobby take me out. When I wouldn’t allow him to approach Bobby or report it to the police, he became so angry that I didn’t know how to deal with him. I was spiteful with Mom for being so sick that I couldn’t burden her with my problems. Angie was already off in LA taking modeling gigs and auditioning for small parts in TV shows. Braden and Evelyn were so young that they were blissfully unaware of the kind of bullshit life could throw at you. More often than not, Hunter was drunk or stoned and unable to burden anything quite so serious. Dad was so involved in the farming operation whenever he wasn’t at Mom’s side that I didn’t dare put one more thing on his plate.

  And with every day that passed, regret for terminating the pregnancy weighed me down until I became bitter and cold. If I hadn’t sought counseling my first year of law school, I can’t imagine the poor state I’d be in now. When I think about all the ill feelings I held toward my family for so long, shame washes over me in waves.

  “Hey,” Nolan says in a gentle tone, nudging me with his shoulder. I’d become so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn’t realize he was finished washing dishes. Wiping his hands with the dishtowel, he shrugs. But despite his attempt to appear unaffected, his warm gaze is soothing, as if he can read my thoughts and wants to offer comfort. “You can’t punish yourself for decisions you made in the past.” His lips bend with the sexy smile I’ve started to obsess over. “At least you’re here now.”

  Early Monday morning, I stand gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows in my new office amongst the faint odor of fresh paint and new carpet, enjoying the partial view I’m
afforded of Manhattan. The neighboring office buildings and random rooftops pale in comparison to the stunning panoramic orgasm I caught when I had met with the partners in the conference room earlier. It still beats the hell out of the cubical I was assigned to while interning in Texas. The fact that I now have a window makes me yearn to jump up and down like a little girl who was just gifted a new pony, even though it’s something I wouldn’t be caught dead doing.

  I made the decision to report to my new employers ahead of schedule to request their approval on my representation of Nolan in the Vegas sale. Not only did it make a favorable impression with the partners, but it saved me from witnessing any more nauseatingly sappy moments between Sharlo and James as they work together on assembling baby furniture and preparing the nursery.

  As I’m taking in the view, my computer dings with an incoming message. I spin back to face the tastefully decorated room, grinning at its simple elegance. Like the rest of the firm, stark black and white prints of the city adorn white walls, making the industrial burgundy carpet with funky designs pop. Eight long years of hard work and dedication to my career brought me here, and I couldn’t be more proud of myself.

  Settling in the rich leather chair behind my new sleek desk, still bare with a non-existent workload—a problem I hope to remedy soon—I discover an email from Nolan with the information I requested on the parties, and a signed copy of the retainer agreement attached. A second later, my phone dings with a message.

  I hope this won’t complicate our friendship, because I may need a race car driver again in the near future.

  I appreciate how he respects my position and knew to text rather than say anything personal in the email. There’s a bright smile on my face when I buzz my secretary and instruct her to contact the firms in the message I’ve forwarded to her inbox.

  Working on his case will prove to be a plausible distraction from reminiscing over how much I’ve enjoyed spending the past couple of days with him, even though our relationship has remained strictly platonic. And I’m completely satisfied with it staying that way. Now that he’s going to be my client in addition to being my friend, there’s no way in hell I’m going to risk my new job and my license to practice law over a hot piece of ass. But damn, is it ever hot.

  For the rest of the week, I bury myself in a mountain of Nevada laws and documents pertaining to the sale of the casino property. In addition, the partners throw occasional projects my way, asking me to research cases or prepare affidavits and other legal documents. The days are long and grueling, leaving me enough time to grab dinner on the go before commuting back to Brooklyn Heights and passing out the minute my head hits the pillow.

  Nolan makes it a habit of texting several times per day, providing me with a much needed break in the morning and afternoon. At first his messages are vague and friendly. By Wednesday, however, it seems he’s on a mission to lighten the mood with tacky jokes and silly memes that have me laughing so loudly that my secretary checks in one afternoon to make sure I’m okay.

  It’s close to six o’clock on Friday when I take a break to read another one of his texts.

  Checking in to see if you’re still at work. Hope I’m not taking up too much of your time with the Vegas deal. I’d like to take you out for dinner tonight.

  Though surprised by the serious tone of his message, my stomach flip-flops with the idea of seeing him again. As I’m grinning, my thumbs go to work on a reply.

  Probably have another hour or so to finish going through depositions for one of the partners. Not going to lie, I’m exhausted, but beer and pizza at your place sounds amazing about now. Can we stop by to visit your grandma first?

  I hold my breath, wondering all at once if inviting myself to his apartment was a bad idea. Even though he’s officially my client, it seems like being alone together could be a recipe for disaster. I’ll always feel an attraction to him regardless of our status. And after a few beers…I don’t know that I can be trusted to behave.

  I’d never turn down a visit with her. Be there in an hour. Look for the guy who’s not about appearances wearing jeans and a T-shirt, waiting in an obnoxiously expensive car.

  The sound of my bright laugh echoes against the walls of my plain office. Then I look down at my outfit, annoyed I didn’t think to bring a change of clothes. It’s the weekend. What’s stopping me from letting loose?

  Meet me at the hipster coffee shop across the street from the firm. Wouldn’t want the partners thinking I’m mixing business with pleasure, even though we’re only friends. And by the way, it hardly seems fair you don’t have to worry about appearances when I’m wearing a suit and heels.

  He replies so quickly that I wonder if he’s using talk to text.

  Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.

  Okay…what? I read the message twice before replying, hoping to understand what he’s implying.

  WTH does that mean? Should I be afraid?

  He doesn’t answer, so I go back to work, eager to finish in time to uncover the meaning behind his mysterious text. At the same time, I mentally berate myself for not having the courage to cancel on him. The warm fuzzies I get when around Nolan Zimmerman are something I don’t know how to process.

  Chapter 7

  NOLAN

  Although I don’t remember the last time I skipped out on overseeing the bar on a Friday night, I don’t feel the slightest pang of guilt as I wait for Sofia in the eco-friendly cafe. But I still haven’t heard back from Avery, which means I have to get my shit together. I can’t continue to have these feelings about a fucking friend, and that’s all Sofia can be. At least for now.

  As she finally strides through the cafe’s front door, my balls draw tight with the sight of her. In a white suit jacket with a creamy white button-down blouse underneath and a knee-length skirt of the same color, accessorized with thin bracelets on her wrists and a set of long silver necklaces dancing between her breasts, hair drawn back into a clean knot, she gives new meaning to the term “man-eater.” When my eyes trail down her smooth legs to the tan fuck-me-heels that must be at least three inches high, I have to shift in my seat so my dick doesn’t greet her before I do.

  Her eyes meet mine and my pulse becomes erratic. I wasn’t prepared for how ridiculously happy I’d be to see her again after Sunday-Funday. With every day that passed, I found myself missing something new about her. The way she blushes when flustered. The way she pushes her hair over her shoulder when she’s about to get serious. The way she’s unafraid to ask me questions, and the way she likes to give me shit. Most of all, I miss the way her beautiful blue eyes light up when she looks at me.

  My lips are ready to split my face open with the wide smile I throw her way. In return, a bright smile slides easily onto her lips stained with dark red lipstick.

  “Hey!” she greets me, breathless. “Hope you haven’t been here too long. One of the partners stopped by to chat right as I was trying to sneak out.”

  “You look…amazing.”

  “And you look comfortable,” she says with a huff, dropping into the bright chair across the round little table. Setting her black handbag in front of her, her eyes narrow. “Are you ready to tell me what the I’ve ‘got your back’ comment was all about?” Her modestly manicured fingers hook the air in a mocking manner when quoting my email, and I chuckle.

  “For the record, I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing you wearing that for the rest of the night. But I hooked you up with something equally as comfortable so we can slum it together.”

  She laughs in a bright, carefree sound that somehow makes me feel lighter. “And how would you achieve such a thing when you don’t know my size?”

  Ready to prove her wrong, I lift the Saks bag off the floor and set it on the table between us. “I have my ways.”

  “Are your ways bright and bubbly with a British accent?” she guesses with a playful roll of her eyes.

  I laugh. “I wouldn’t presume to know your body otherwise.”

  The com
ment was meant in fun, but it creates a sudden bout of silence between us as our gazes lock. God help me, I would love to know this woman’s body in every way imaginable.

  Choking on a nasally laugh, she motions to my arms folded over my knee. “So much for not being about appearances. You’re still wearing your Rolex. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were fond of that watch, even though it’s expensive. Are you sure you’re not attached to the finer things in life?”

  Without breaking her challenging stare, I unclasp my watch and twist in my seat, preparing to offer it to the young couple sitting behind me.

  “Oh my god, stop!” Sofia cries out, giggling. “I was merely rattling your cage!”

  Turning back to her, I shrug as I hook my watch back on my wrist. “If you want the truth, I’m so used to wearing it that I forget I have it on.”

  “Yeah, okay,” she concedes before peeking in the shopping bag. “It was totally unnecessary to buy me something.”

  “Just put it on.” I lean back in my chair, grinning. “I dare you.”

  As if I spoke the magic words, her narrowed eyes dart to mine as she scoops the bag off the table and rises to her feet. I fucking love that I’ve found a trigger, something that has brought out her stubborn side.

  “I’ll be right back,” she sings.

  It’s impossible not to watch her toned ass shift back and forth in the white fabric as she sashays to the bathroom. Though I’m certain she’s pretending to act defiant in accepting my challenge, she’s only making it harder to keep things platonic. What I wouldn’t give to bend her over and hike that skirt up to her hips—

  “Another cup, sir?” a teenage waitress asks, holding a pot in one hand.