“Eight o’clock?”
“Fine.”
His soft-murmured “See you then” was punctuated by a firm squeeze of her arm an instant before he turned and walked down the hall, then rounded the corner toward the elevator. Had Justine not been in this place at this time for the very serious business of justice, she would have stood on the nearest bench, spread her arms wide and up, and let loose the most earth-shattering cry of exhilaration imaginable. Was this really the sedate and poised Justine O’Neill, who now battled to control such irresponsible impulses? A grin curved her lips as she hugged herself in excitement, then headed for the cafeteria and a lunch she somehow knew she would barely touch.
Her light-headedness carried her through the afternoon’s court session, back to the office, then home at last. She was ready and waiting when Sloane buzzed from the lobby. With a final glance at her flushed image in the mirror, she headed for the door. Her outfit was new, one she had bought on impulse the week before. The evening pants were of fine black silk, gathered in at the waist and ankle, fuller in between. She wore a white blouse of matching style, with a fullness at arms and bodice tucked in neatly at the wrists, neck, and waist. Her cummerbund was of pale pink, her shoes open sandals of black patent leather. For the sake of comfort, she had caught her curls up in bright gold clasps above either ear, leaving only a few wispy tendrils to brush her cheeks.And,recalling the fox’s keen sense of smell, she had quite deliberately dabbed her pulsepoints with Flora Danica.
Sloane was instantly appreciative of the pains she had taken to look her most attractive for him. His smile was white and gleaming, his eyes, devouring every one of her five feet eight inches before he finally breathed a husky “hello.” As ever, he was devastatingly handsome himself, dressed in an immaculately tailored linen suit of navy blue, a white shirt, and a dark maroon and navy rep tie.
“Hello, yourself.” She smiled self-consciously. Then, she caught a strange twinkle in his eye and frowned in puzzlement.
“Unfortunately … not exactly … myself,” he murmured with an air of mild guilt as he glanced down the hall. Leaning just beyond her threshold, Justine watched the approach of two other men, both tall as was Sloane, and each with a definite similarity of feature.
“Tom and Chad …” she whispered in a moment of intuitive realization.
Sloane had time only for a wry-spoken, “Howcouldyou guess,” before the others reached her door.
“Sorry, brother,” the darker of the two began, “but the doorman showed up sooner than we expected.”
It was the blond-haired one, the youngest of the three, who offered his hand in introduction. “I’m Chad, Justine. You have no idea what a pleasure it is to meet you!” Justine had taken several steps back into her apartment and the two followed her, leaving Sloane to watch with amusement from the door. “This is my brother, Tom.” Chad gestured toward the other. “And, you have met Sloane, I believe.”
Justine sent a helpless plea toward the door as she laughed spontaneously. “You believe correctly. I’m pleased to meet both of you. When did you arrive?”
“Didn’t Sloane tell you?” Tom asked, more soft-spoken and gentle by nature than the others. “We fixed it so that his plane returned from Tucson via Atlanta—we needed a lift, since he was the one who arranged this move in the first place.” To Justine’s relief there was no hint of resentment—only good-humored ribbing.
It was but a sampling of what she was in for for the evening. Sloane had declared that, in honor of his brothers’ arrival in New York, only the best would do. They dined in luxury at La Côte Basque, where she quickly learned that these were not two inexperienced young men seeing the big city for the first time. Both spoke fluent French, as they readily proceeded to demonstrate to the delight of the waiter and the maître d’, and each had a thorough knowledge of fine wines and superb French dishes.
“We’ve all spent time abroad,” Sloane explained at a point when the brothers were engaged in intent discussion of the exquisite stretch of muraled wall. “My parents believed in every aspect of education—not only formal schooling but the less formal experiences of visiting different places, different countries, and living with different degrees of comfort. Our own home is on the near side of luxury, but we’ve each spent time roughing it in the wilds. I spent several summers as a canoe guide in upper Minnesota—it’s deserted country up there!”
“I believe it,” she answered with barely concealed admiration. “Obviously, your brothers have been to New York before.”
“Many times.” He grinned. “But this is the first time they’re attempting tolivehere.”
“Have you got an apartment?” she asked of Chad, whose attention had come back to rest with them.
The apologetic look this youngest brother cast toward Sloane did not escape her. “I’m afraid we’ll be shacking up with Sloane until we find something.”
“You’ve got the whole weekend to look,” Sloane informed him, indulgent yet firm, “and then I want youout!I’ve lived alone for too many years to be suddenly sharing a place with two guys. Besides”—he grinned at Tom—“you had no trouble arranging for that cute little BMW to be here waiting for you. An apartment shouldn’t be too difficult for you to manage.”
“Enough! Enough!” Tom’s mocking desperation stilled the humor-filled diatribe. “We get the point! So you’re really going to take off for the weekend … desert us in our hour of need?”
Justine looked from Tom to Sloane, holding the latter’s gaze questioningly. When a large hand sidled over hers beneath cover of the tablecloth and proceeded to squeeze it reassuringly, she understood that Sloane would explain later. When that same hand continued to hold hers, “later” took on other connotations, each of which sent ripples of excitement through her.
“Later” was, unfortunately, a relatively public affair—a few moments of slow dancing in the dim light of a lounge at the Plaza while Chad and Tom nursed nightcaps at the bar. “Sorry, Justine, but this is the best I could do for tonight,” he apologized softly, as he held her close and rocked her to the sweet sound of a melancholy keyboard. But the music was incidental to her enjoyment. What pleased her most was the strength of the long, lean body against which he held her firmly, the caressive warmth of his voice as he sought to explain.
“I had expected to have been back for at least a week before they arrived. With the delay between Atlanta and Tucson, things got pretty messed up. Mmmmmm, do you smell good!” he interrupted his thought endearingly, then went on. “My brothers can be overpowering when they get going as a twosome.”
“You’re all very close,” she commented appreciatively. “I envy you that.” His hand pressed hers against the lapel of his jacket, flattening it against his heart. His fresh-shaven cheek was smooth and snug by her temple.
“You have no sisters or brothers?”
It was no simple question. Tony was her half brother, born out of wedlock to her father’s mistress when Justine was six. As a child she had never even known of Tony’s existence. In a way, therefore, she spoke the truth. “I grew up an only child. One of a kind, so to speak,” she quipped, though she regretted the evasion. Once having discovered and accepted each other, Tony and she had grown close, in spite of the fact that she and her father had never been reconciled.
“One of a kind? I’ll second that! Listen, about this weekend …” She drew back to look at him, pulse racing wildly. “… Tomorrow I’ll be passing papers on a home in Westport. Would you like to take a ride up? It’s empty and unfurnished and I’ll have to pick up a few things to make it livable. But I do have a couple of sleeping bags … just in case it gets cool….”
As the darkness of his eyes reached out to swallow her up, Justine knew what her answer would be. It was in the smile which mirrored his, in the heart which thudded loudly, in the knees that threatened collapse, in the veins which pulsed desire. “I’d love that, Sloane,” she whispered softly, then felt him relax as he pulled her back against him.
“There seems to be so little time …”
