Alexa inched closer. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
He removed his hand from hers, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. “She thought she had no one else. She died believing she didn’t have anyone,” he said, sadness wrapping around him like a heavy blanket. God, he’d never forgive himself. “I always took pride in doing the right thing. In being a better brother than my father had been a father.”
Yet, none of this had mattered. He hadn’t done enough.
“Brooks. I’m showing this to you in the spirit of transparency, but don’t take her words at face value. Candidates know we ask those questions, because if they say they have a jealous boyfriend or a conservative father, we might turn them down. We don’t want any trouble, so when someone comes from a family that seems like they would come after us, we avoid that person. She knew if she mentioned you, we wouldn’t consider her.”
“All this time, I held you accountable for what happened to her. For having this platform, where she could come and sell herself.” He inclined his head, needing to say it to Alexa. His icky family had sent her to House of Alexa…and who knew, maybe she’d have gone somewhere worse. “I appreciate you asking those questions.” Could he still say Alexa didn’t care about the auctionee’s safety? No.
“Don’t dwell on it. Wherever she is now, she wouldn’t want you to feel this way.”
Alexa reached to him and encircled him in a hug, a hug he hadn’t realized he needed until he leaned his head on her shoulder and a long sigh escaped. Once again, her nearness alleviated some of his pain, his guilt, his truth. Pamela wouldn’t have turned to the auction if he’d been there for her. She’d lost her mother, and she’d never had a dad. She’d had him, and he’d been selfish and impatient. He’d expected her to go back to being the fun carefree friend she’d been before her life had changed.
He caught a whiff of Alexa’s cologne and closed his eyes, thankful for how his muscles relaxed and his brain no longer hurt. “Thank you, Alexa,” he whispered in her ear, unsure of all he was grateful for.
Chapter Ten
Alexa finger combed her hair for the tenth time, determined to ensure the waves she’d carefully curled with the styling iron looked natural and carefree. Then, she checked on the food in the kitchen.
Hours earlier, when she’d shown Brooks the video, she’d spontaneously invited him for dinner at her place. And now, she had fluffed the pillows on the sofa five times and had run between her bedroom and the living room with Olympic precision, fumbling with the decor and arrangement of flowers.
Why did all this matter? It didn’t, not one bit, but she still over-cleaned and organized her place. He wouldn’t be around for a long time, as they had discussed, so to keep him from tasting her dubious cooking, she’d ordered dinner from the French restaurant nearby and transferred the food to her serving trays to get the credit.
A warm sensation ran over her skin. When was the last time she’d had a guy over for dinner? Never.
She finger combed her hair again, this time faster, more vigorously. This is a bad idea. They could have met at a restaurant or his hotel room.
The doorbell rang, and a thrill of excitement zapped through her. Good idea or not, she sprinted through the kitchen and foyer to open the door. A vibrant ardor spiraled inside her, and she’d never felt more alive.
When she opened the door, her heart slammed into her chest. A dark gray shirt with a V-neck clung to his muscles, and denim showcased his long legs. But the sexiest part of him, his eyes, greeted her like she was already naked and in his arms.
He carried a bottle of wine in one hand and a vase with a blue orchid in the other. “Hi, stranger. Long time no see.”
She showed him inside and took the flower from his hand. “Welcome to my hideout.”
“Thanks.” He placed the wine on the counter. “Smells fabulous. What are we having?”
“Oyster and shrimp.”
“Oysters. Hhmmm. You really want to take advantage of me tonight, don’t you Madam?”
She batted her eyelashes, feigning innocence. “Never crossed my mind.”
“By the way, I contacted my guy and sent him the list of employees who worked that night. He might take a few days to get back to me.”
“All right.”
“I’m saying it now because from now on, I don’t want to discuss the subject tonight. I want to talk about you.”
“You already know more about me than anyone else,” she said, then lifted her hand to her mouth, wishing she could take it back.
“That makes me feel special.”
“Don’t. I also say that to everyone.” She injected some sarcasm in her voice, but the glint in his eyes told her she didn’t fool him. Crap.
He winked at her. “Where’s your corkscrew?”
“First drawer to your right.” She pointed. Brooks in her kitchen, searching for the corkscrew and wineglasses squeezed a sigh out of her. She licked her lips, hungry rather than thirsty.
He poured some wine and gave her the glass. She sniffed it, then sipped the complex, robust red he’d brought. After it rolled smooth down her throat, she enjoyed the taste of the grapes and notes of raspberry.
“Like it?” he asked.
“Not bad. I thought beer was your jam.”
“It’s the Texan in me.”
A super rich Texan, she added inwardly, but bit her tongue. She didn’t want him to think about his messed-up family tonight. If she could offer him some distraction from the emotional day, she would. Hell, this wasn’t necessarily a good deed. She wanted him, too.
“You’ve done well for yourself, Madam.” He gestured at her state-of-the-art, all white kitchen and spacious living room. A buttery leather set of sectionals, foreign rugs and accent pieces that would have an art dealer
