Rules of Negotiation (12 page)

He decided to begin by talking about the kids. Women loved kids. She’d never notice when he turned to Melissa.

“My nephew Luke will be thrilled to have another spectator at his game. He’s always complaining that no one comes to watch him.”

“Is that right?” Tori did not lower the paper.

He stopped in the midst of picking up the pancake bowl, nonplussed by her chilly reaction. “Yes.” There was a long pause. He wondered how to move the conversation forward. “Luke’s nine,” he finally threw out.

“That’s nice.”

He stared at the back of her head. She turned the page, folding the newspaper into neat thirds so it was easier to read.

“He’s got a brother, Matt, and a baby sister, Julia. And then there’s Delia, my brother Joe’s kid. She’s a handful, but so cute you can’t bring yourself to get mad at her.”

“They sound sweet. Is that coffee ready yet?”

Brit started getting annoyed. What kind of woman didn’t start ooh-ing and aah-ing over a man’s nieces and nephews? Wasn’t that like the Holy Grail of dating? Despite all her assurances that she didn’t want a relationship, surely she couldn’t resist the chance to meet his family.

“No, it’s not.” Succumbing to his growing frustration, Brit started looking for a way to goad her into a reaction. “Luke’s a bit of a bookworm, but generally a good kid. Not much of a ballplayer, but he’ll learn. As long as we can keep his nose in the game and out of his books this summer.”

“What’s wrong with being a bookworm?” She dropped the paper and glared at him. “You have a problem with reading?”

Bingo
.

“No, no problem,” he said, pouring out four perfect dollar-sized pancakes. “But not over the summer. Kids are supposed to play sports over the summer, not read.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like sports. Maybe you should let him read.” Her chin thrust forward.

“Everyone knows too much reading isn’t good for a kid. Stunts their growth.”

“Why that’s the stupidest—” Her face started to go red, then abruptly she let out a long breath. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Good heavens, no,” he said with a straight face. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“Hmph.” She picked up the paper and buried her face behind it.

Brit flipped four golden pancakes, waited for the coffee to finish brewing, and then grabbed plates and cups. He poured a cup of coffee and brought it to Tori. “Sugar and cream?”

“No.”

“You’re sure? It might improve your mood.”

She scowled at him. “Your stock closed down a buck yesterday.”

He shrugged. “Markets move. Anything else interesting going on in the world? What are Jennifer and Brad up to these days?”

“I hardly think they cover that in the
Wall Street Journal
. Besides, it’s been Brad and Angelina for years. They have like eight kids. Don’t you know anything?”

“Drink your coffee,” he advised. “I’ll bring you the sugar.”

Gathering the first batch of pancakes in one hand, and maple syrup, a sugar bowl, and two forks in another, he returned to the table. He set the plate in front of her with a flourish. Her eyes widened when she saw the pancakes.

“My God, these look amazing.” Without even waiting for him to unload his arms, she popped one into her mouth. “Ahhh.” She leaned back in the chair. “Now that’s a pancake. Smooth and light, the tangy finish of the buttermilk.” She took a sip of her coffee. “And a dark roast to go with them.” A smile of contentment broke across her lips.

“So that’s it,” Brit said, setting down the syrup, forks, and sugar.

“What?” She picked up another pancake and ate it before he could respond.

“You’re like the polar bear at the zoo. You get grumpy with your handler when you’re hungry. I’ll remember that.”

She poured maple syrup over the pancakes, cut one in half with the fork, and ate it in a single bite. “Honey, with pancakes like these, you can handle me any day.”

“Now that’s more like it.” He leaned forward to lick a drop of syrup from her lips. “Mmm. Tastes good.”

“Don’t you have more pancakes to cook?” She gave him a suspicious eye.

He snapped back to his full height, and gave her a mock salute. “Yes, sir.” She was moodier than a three-year-old on a sugar high, but for some reason he found himself enjoying it. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had been so grumpy with him—or the last time he’d made someone pancakes. The women he dated were more of the “coffee and cigarettes for breakfast” type.

He cooked the rest of the pancakes while she read the paper. He watched her methodical progress—first the business section, then the front page, then the national news. He joined her as she was leaning back in her chair, her hands splayed on her stomach.

“How’s the polar bear now?” he teased. “I’m not going to lose an eye if I get too close, am I?”

She closed her eyes. “Probably not. Those cakes were damn good.”

“Thank goodness. Luke won’t be happy if his uncle has to come to the game with only one eye. What if I miss the one fly ball to right field he’s ever caught?”

“Is he really that bad?”

He drenched his pancakes with syrup and tucked in. “No. But in comparison with Matt, it can feel that way.”

“How old is Matt?”

Brit forced himself not to react to her first show of interest in the family. “Seven.”

“Poor kids.” When he looked at her quizzically, she said, “I mean, your brother mentioned at dinner the other night that he shares custody with his ex. It’s tough to go through a divorce when you’re that young.”

“Ross and his wife got married out of high school. They were too young, never really got a chance to find themselves before they started having babies. They’re both much happier now.”

Tori nodded, but looked unconvinced.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Never mind. Forget it.”

“No, what? You have something against divorce?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound critical of your brother, but I know how hard it is on kids.”

“Did your parents divorce?” he asked, realizing this was the first time she’d voluntarily shared something about herself with him.

“My dad took off when I was eight. My mom never really recovered. I spent a lot of time blaming myself for him leaving, and then blaming her for scaring him away.” Her voice drifted off, and a look of panic crossed her face, as if she had said something she shouldn’t. She cleared her throat and made an obvious attempt to change the subject. “So what’s Delia like?”

Reluctantly, he let her have her way, feeling as though he’d had his first glimpse into what made Tori the driven, ambitious person that she was. “Delia turned three a few weeks ago, but you’d think she was thirteen, considering the way she has everyone wrapped around her finger. She’s a competitive bugger, too. She reminds me of Melissa, actually.”

“Melissa’s your sister, right?” She leaned forward in her chair.

Nice segue, Brit,
he thought smugly. “That’s right. I forgot I had mentioned her. She went to MIT and majored in computer science, then went right on to a master’s degree. She’s always been one of the only women in her classes, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. She shrugs it off and keeps right on going.”

“She must be tough,” Tori said, nodding approvingly.

“Yes, but I worry about her. She’s so independent, she refuses to let me get involved, but she’s been such a mess since—” Brit cautioned himself not to look Tori directly in the eye as he dropped the hook into the water.

“Since she broke up with her boyfriend?”

A bite!

“Well, I’m not sure I should talk about it. She’s fairly private about these sorts of things.”

“Oh, of course.” Tori stood up and brought her plate and cup into the kitchen. “I didn’t mean to pry. I should probably take a shower. What time is the game?”

Damn it. “We’ve got plenty of time. Have another cup of coffee.” As Tori poured, Brit continued, “The thing is, he cheated on her. With her best friend.”

Tori spun around, her mouth dropping open. “Why, that’s horrible! The bastard.”

Brit did not need to fake his frustration. “Oh, he’s a bastard all right. And I promise you, if he ever steps foot in this state, there will be hell to pay. But there’s nothing I’ve been able to do for her. She’s so depressed.”

“My mom was like that,” Tori said. “After my dad left. It took her months to pull herself back together.”

Brit barely heard her words, as success loomed within his reach.

Bring it home, Brit!

“She spends all day wandering around, looking miserable,” he pressed. “Half the time she won’t even leave her apartment. I’ve tried everything to get her out of the house, but nothing seems to work. I think maybe if she got a job, she might be able to shake it.”

Tori bit her lip. “You know, depression isn’t necessarily something you can fix for someone else, Brit. Of course you want to get her help if she needs it, but she may not need you to intervene right now. She might need some time to work through it on her own.”

Brit paused, momentarily distracted by her quiet words. Before any doubt could overcome him, he shook her voice from his head. He was going to help Melissa, and he was going to do it with Solen’s number.

He stood and joined Tori by the sink, sliding his finger over the crease of her mouth before replacing it with his own lips.

“We’ve got half an hour,” he breathed. “Let’s forget all about my family and see if my polar bear still has her claws.”

Chapter Twelve

The game started at eleven, so the sun was already hot overhead by the time Tori and Brit arrived at the ball field. The baseball diamond sat at one end of a neighborhood park in Brooklyn, near where Brit’s brother Ross lived. Old oak trees ringed the park, casting cool shadows over a multicolored play structure, metal slide, and long row of swings. The grass was a thick emerald green, and neat rows of petunias and pansies decorated a flower bed at the entrance to the park. The air was humid, and even though the temperature wasn’t much above seventy, Tori felt the prickle of sweat around her hairline as soon as they left the car.

It had occurred to both of them that Tori needed a new outfit for the game, so Brit stopped at a boutique not far from his apartment on their way out of Manhattan. Tori found a pair of black capri pants, strappy sandals, and a wildly overpriced T-shirt and convinced the clerk to let her wear them out of the changing room. She considered buying a hat as well, but since she’d already dropped enough on the shirt and pants to pay her mortgage for a few months, she decided to skip it, and dug an elastic out of her purse instead.

The way her heart was beating as they approached the stands, you would think she was back in high school. Except this time she wasn’t nervous about talking to her crush, she was wondering how the hell she had ended up at a Little League game meeting his family.

“Uncle Brit!”

A small pack of children emerged from the bleachers as soon as Tori and Brit came into sight. Brit, looking painfully attractive in low-slung khakis and a dark gray polo shirt, broke into a wide smile.

“Hey, you rugrats!” he called out.

A small, black-haired girl reached them first, running as fast as she could on short, sturdy legs. Her face was tight with concentration, and she looked behind her several times, as if to make sure she was out in front. When she saw that her target was within reach, she squealed and threw herself forward in a flying leap. Brit scooped her up neatly right before she hit the ground, then flipped her upside down and tickled her belly before setting her gently into the grass. That was all the time necessary for the older kids to arrive. There was a tall, skinny boy in a baseball jersey, a younger boy wearing a pair of blue mesh basketball shorts, and a girl with chestnut pigtails, wearing matching pink shirt and shorts.

They all started talking at once, the smallest one, Delia, tugging on Brit’s arm, the older ones trying to get his attention by speaking louder and louder. Tori recognized Ross, the brother she had met that first night at Alessandro’s, as he waved from the stands.

She hung back, hoping to avoid making too much contact with the children. She loved kids, but this felt wrong. She was nobody, a woman whose relationship with Uncle Brit couldn’t be—shouldn’t be—explained. Worse yet was the thought that she’d have to look Brit’s siblings in the eye. Would they be pitying? Embarrassed for her? Judgmental? They were real, adult people, and they were going to spoil her perfect fantasy world where she could have an affair with a fantastic guy, create no emotional baggage, and go home the next day and never think about him again.

“Hey, kids, this is Tori.” Brit motioned for her to come closer. She did, reluctantly, and gave a tiny wave. They barely looked at her before resuming the chorus for Brit’s attention.

Brit threw Delia back over his shoulder and began moving the party toward the bleachers. He admired the butterflies on Julia’s shorts, gave Matt a high-five for getting the most rebounds in his basketball game the night before, and asked Luke if he was reading anything new.

They beamed at him, and began shouting answers in reply. All at once. Tori kept to the side and tried to make herself invisible.

It didn’t work.

Ross jumped down from the metal bleachers and met Tori halfway. “As I live and breathe, it’s Tori Anderson, right? From Alessandro’s?” His considerable biceps strained the edges of an old T-shirt, and his grin could have melted an ice cube in thirty seconds flat.

Tori cringed at the amused look in his eyes. At least he wasn’t looking at her as if she were a hooker. “That’s me. It’s Ross, right? Your kids are great.”

“My kids are loud, ill-mannered, and completely in love with my brother.” He shook his head at the sight of Brit, who was now casually flinging the shrieking Delia into the air, while still managing to carry on a conversation with Luke. “Brit mentioned he’d be bringing a friend to the game, but he didn’t say it was you. It’s nice to see you again.”

A moment later, another man and a woman started toward them. The man was tall, with dark brown hair that slid over his forehead and wire-rimmed glasses in a messy wave. His clothing was nearly as disheveled, with a hopelessly wrinkled madras plaid shirt tucked haphazardly into a pair of faded canvas pants. Tori liked him immediately.

The woman, who Tori assumed was Melissa, had piercing blue eyes like her brother, and a thin, heart-shaped face with prominent cheekbones. A limp ponytail trailed down her back. She was too angular to be beautiful, though Tori could see she could have been striking had she not been quite so thin, or so clearly uninterested in her appearance.

Brit’s words from the morning came back to her in a rush. No wonder he was so worried about her. Melissa looked like she was wasting away. It was heartbreaking, and Tori had only known her for a few minutes.

Brit suddenly appeared by Tori’s side, the children still clinging to him like cheerful, screaming barnacles. “Joe, Melissa, this is a friend of mine—Tori Anderson. Tori, this is my brother Joe and sister, Melissa, and you remember Ross, from the restaurant.”

Joe, whom Tori had already pegged as “the nice one” of the family, brushed his hair from his eyes and gave her a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Tori. You should know right away that Delia’s a dangerous little cuss. Don’t let her youth or innocence fool you.”

The object of his announcement peered down from atop Brit’s shoulders. “Daddy, what’s dangerous mean?”

“You,” Joe said, tickling her feet. She giggled appreciatively, and hugged the top of Brit’s head tighter.

Tori laughed and nodded. “Thanks for the warning.”

Melissa’s gaze swept from Tori’s toes to the top of her frizzy head. Her expression remained impassive, but Tori had the feeling everything about her had been analyzed and memorized in one penetrating look. “Nice to meet you. Are you new to the city?”

“No, I’m visiting,” she said. “I live in Philly.”

Ross smiled. “I met her a couple of weeks ago. At Alessandro’s.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow at Ross, who started to say something else before Brit cut him off abruptly. “Ross, Joe, why don’t we take the kids and throw the ball around before the game starts?”

Matt and Julia cheered, while Luke looked marginally interested. Ross turned to Brit with a hurt look. “But I was getting acquainted with your friend Tori.”

Her face already warm from the humidity and growing embarrassment, Tori waved her hand at him. “Please, don’t worry about me. I was thinking about finding a spot in the shade until the game starts.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Melissa agreed, though her face showed nary a flush. “I’ll go with you.”

Reluctantly, Ross nodded. He walked over to Brit and punched him in the arm as they walked toward the center of the field. Joe followed a few steps behind.

“Sometimes they’re such…men,” Melissa said, making no attempt to hide her bitterness.

“What’s the old saying? Can’t live with ’em, can’t shoot ’em?” Tori said.

They began walking toward a large maple tree, its wide, spreading branches casting a pool of shadow over the edge of the ball field. Melissa stopped and raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

Tori grimaced. Melissa’s words dripped with sarcasm, but underlying it was an obvious, aching pain. Tori could understand why Brit wanted to kill the bastard who had cheated on his baby sister. “I suppose if you’re careful enough…” she let her voice trail off suggestively.

The corner of Melissa’s mouth twitched in the beginning of a smile. “Don’t let Brit hear you say that.”

“Oh, he’d understand,” Tori said, waving a negligent hand.

“So, how did you get mixed up with my brother, anyway?” Melissa asked, the smile disappearing as she stared out at the kids.

Tori paused, unsure what she was supposed to say. Brit had introduced her as a friend, which was not entirely true, but where was she supposed to go from there?

She recalled the way Brit had introduced her to Ross at Alessandro’s, and decided to follow his lead. “We worked on a deal together.”

“Really? I don’t think Brit’s ever met a…friend…that way.” Melissa chose her words carefully.

Tori laced and unlaced her fingers. “You must follow your brother’s friendships quite closely,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “To know that sort of detail, I mean.”

Brit and his brothers had formed a rough triangle, with the kids in between. Every now and again, Ross or Joe would look curiously over at Tori, and she gritted her teeth. Brit remained focused on the children. He had the same look that he had when they were in Central Park: relaxed, comfortable, as much in control with a group of kids as he was in the boardroom.

“I’m sorry,” Melissa said, “I don’t mean to sound like a prude, but it’s unusual for Brit to introduce us to someone. You must be very close?”

Tori crossed her arms over her chest. “We’re not dating, if that’s what you’re asking. He didn’t bring me here to meet the family. I probably got in the way and he was being polite.” She smiled to try to make it sound playful, but knew she hadn’t entirely disguised her frustration.

Why the hell
am
I here?

Melissa’s eyebrows shot up at Tori’s blunt response. She turned to face Tori and started to reply, but then apparently thought better of it, and closed her mouth. They stood for a moment in silence.

“I see,” she said after a pause.

“I’m glad someone does,” Tori said.

There was a brief commotion on the field as Luke got knocked in the shoulder by the ball. Tears ensued, though they dried up quickly as Matt teased him. Ross intervened, sending Matt to stand next to Joe and keeping Luke by his side.

“So, what do you do?” Melissa finally asked.

“I’m a lawyer,” Tori replied.

“Is that right?” Melissa shot her a puzzled look. “A lawyer? Wow.”

Tori stiffened. “What’s so unusual about that?”

“Nothing.” Melissa paused, then laughed before she continued, “I’m sorry, I think it’s fabulous, actually. You see, Brit’s taste usually runs toward a different sort of woman. A less, er…professional sort. If you know what I mean.”

“Oh. Well, I’m also a cover model for
Vogue.
In my spare time,” Tori added.

Melissa chuckled. “I don’t mean to laugh, because you’ve got great legs, hon, but you’d need to add about a foot to each.”

They shared a smile. “You’re probably right. I shouldn’t quit the day job. What about you?” Tori asked.

“I don’t do anything,” Melissa said, flipping her hair over her back. She stared at the kids in the field, but Tori had a sense she was seeing something else. “I used to work in a robotics lab with my Goddamn-cheating-bastard-ex-boyfriend. Now I sit through endless baseball games and listen to Brit tell me how I should move on and start over.”

“I’m sorry,” Tori said, struck by the raw pain in Melissa’s voice.

“Yeah, not as sorry as I am.”

…

As soon as this torture was over, Brit Bencher was a dead man. This was not the weekend she signed on for. If she wanted family drama, she could have stayed home and watched her mother slip into dementia.

She had wanted a weekend of no-drama sex. Apparently, Brit Bencher had something very different in mind.

Somewhere around the third inning, the pieces had begun to fall into place. Delia started it, when she pretended to do a robot dance for Auntie Melissa. Shortly after that, Joe asked Melissa if she’d made any progress on the job front.

Then Ross made a joke about Solen Labs, and how he doubted the place actually existed.

That was when Tori knew that she was being set up.

Brit was conveniently absent from her side for most of this time. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was making a concerted effort to leave her with Melissa while he roamed the field with the boys.

And, of course, now she did know better.

As the game progressed, Melissa filled in the details for Tori about her breakup with her boyfriend. She’d apparently caught him with his pants around his ankles, with her best friend. They were on the kitchen table. This explained why Melissa was so thin—she couldn’t walk into a kitchen anymore without getting sick.

It was a horrible story, absolutely dreadful, and Tori couldn’t help but feel sorry for Melissa, who seemed like a sweet person under her misery. She paid close attention to the kids on the field, and they seemed to look to her for approval. Everyone took turns competing to try to make her smile.

None of that made up for what Brit had tried to do.

She watched him on the field, a faint sheen of sweat glinting on his forehead, muscles rippling as he demonstrated a practice swing for Luke. He had that serious, patient look that made you want to trust him. Man or woman, no one was immune from that sort of cunning.