She had inherited the McDermots' dark hair and silver eyes and a penchant to be in control. She was two years younger than he was and in charge of the PR side of the company, a department she ran with pride. Her thick dark hair was in an elegant chignon at the nape of her neck. The bold red suit she was wearing suited her to perfection.
Tapered brows arched as he continued to stare at her. "Is there something on my face?"
"You're interrupting me," Vincent told her mildly.
"For a good reason." Marching over to his desk, she slapped the newspaper in front of him. "Have you seen this?"
He had, first thing this morning. It was what had greeted him as he was having his second cup of coffee at his desk. Mrs. Hargrove was a stickler for bringing him his morning paper and his cup of coffee.
"I have, yes. Why?"
Jacklyn's brows arched even further. "You knew she was back?"
"No." He shoved the newspaper aside.
"She did not contact you?"
For a moment, resentment sliced through him at her words.
"She's under no obligation to do so."
"Darling, she was your best friend in high school."
"Which was a long time ago."
"And college," she continued relentlessly.
"People move on. Now if you're finished- "
"She has invited us to her premiere. Our Althea is now a first-class pastry chef. She's back for good. And I would have expected her to contact you, even if she didn't care about alerting me to the fact that she's back home."
Realizing that his sister was not going to leave the subject alone, he leaned back in his chair and gave her a level glance. "We ended up leading separate lives. Thea went away to Europe to study and I-" He swallowed the lump that had become lodged inside his throat.
"And you fell in love with Lizzie." She touched his arm briefly, feeling helpless to take away the obvious pain on his face. She had watched her normally happy-go-lucky brother change overnight and would give anything to see a genuine smile on his face.
"She's holding the premiere in one of our conference centers. We should go and support her. Even though we have not been in contact for years, she's still a part of our lives." She brushed her fingers over his forearm.
He looked so lost and alone that it simply broke her heart. Her brother was barely thirty-five years old and had closed himself off from the world. He did not date anymore. Aside from a few casual escorts to the necessary functions he could not wriggle out of, he stayed home. His priorities were his son and work, in that particular order.
She wanted more for him. She was single as well, but that was her choice. She could not find a man who could stand up to her level of maturity; they were all morons and lacking in self-confidence, and they could not hold a decent conversation.
She suspected it was because of her name and the fact that the McDermots were a powerhouse in the business industry. She had stopped trying to find someone worthy of her time. But she wanted more for her brother.
He had suffered long enough and David needed a mother. She would not dare to mention that aspect to him, because she knew what the answer would be.
When she had brought it up a long time ago, he had lashed out at her, telling her that David had a mother and she died. He had also furiously told her that it was in bad taste to bring up something like that. She had never made that mistake again.
"So, how about it, darling?" she said lightly. "Want to be my date to this thing? It's on Saturday."
"I'll check my schedule and let you know." He glanced at the paper again and found himself staring at the glossy photo of his once-best friend. She had cut her thick dark hair. It suited her narrow face. Her smile had always been bright and shiny, white teeth flashing with the cutest little dimple at the left side of her mouth. Funny the things you remember, he mused. Her sparkling wit and the way she would listen with her head tilted to the side.
"Yes," he decided, his eyes still on the girl from his past. "We should show our support."
"Great." Slapping a hand on the desk, she rose gracefully and finished her coffee. "I'll leave you to your work then."
"Why, thank you," he said mockingly.
With a saucy wave, she headed out, leaving her coffee cup on his desk. With a sigh, he pushed it aside and was about to resume his perusal of the document when he found himself picking up the newspaper.
