Seducing His Secret Wife--A brother's best friend romance Page 5

  The house was built in the same style of the mansion, but it was much smaller. Large enough to hold a few bedrooms, it was bigger than any house she’d ever lived in. With pots of flowers on each side of the front walk and a hand-painted welcome sign on the door, it was inviting. Staying here would be...nice.

  A smaller pool and patio with a firepit and barbecue were nestled next to the house, just beyond the two-car garage. Justin pulled to a stop in front of it, turning off the car and waking up a grumbling Wilma, who growled at the disruption to her nineteen-hour-per-day nap routine. Sarina shushed her, stroking the silky soft fur between her ears and getting a doggy kiss reward.

  The interior of the car was quiet but not uncomfortable as they both stared forward. For her part, Sarina was processing all that had happened in the last few days to get her in this spot with this man. She didn’t know Justin well enough to know what he was thinking but she could probably guess.

  He shifted in his seat to face her and she mirrored his movements. Sarina held her breath, trying to still the flutter of butterflies in her stomach and the race of heat-induced goose bumps on her skin. He smiled, the slow, I-know-how-to-flip-your-world-on-its-head grin that had kept her glued to that bar stool in Vegas and then following him down the path to the altar. It was hard to believe that this man ever had to prove anything to anyone and harder to believe that he might not have measured up.

  She wasn’t the only one feeling something. Justin swallowed hard, his gaze hot and heavy on her. His focus drifted from her mouth, down to where her breasts pushed against her tank top with the ridiculously fast beat of her heart, and then lifted again to her eyes. Everything from the taut lines of his muscles under his shirt, to the fierce grip of his fingers on his thighs, to his heavy breathing that mirrored her own proved he was right here in this craziness with her. And it scared her to death.

  “Sarina...” Justin reached out, his hand sliding over her own, the rough brush of his fingers sparking all of her nerve endings. He leaned in closer, his breath drifting across her cheek, his gaze drifting down to her mouth and back up to her eyes. He wanted to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her. It was a bad idea and she didn’t care. “You are trouble.”

  “I think you like a little trouble.”

  His grin turned sultry and he nodded, leaning in even closer. All she had to do was move forward an inch and she’d be able to taste him again.

  A knock on the passenger-side window made them both jump and Wilma barked in warning as she scrambled to lunge at the window. Justin peered over her shoulder, rolling his eyes as he recognized the woman gesturing at them through the glass.

  Justin reached over to hit the button to lower the window. “Brace yourself. Nana Orla is one-of-a-kind and we are all thankful for that.”

  The older woman quickly assessed the situation, the eyebrows raised in disapproval and the hands on her hips testifying that she wasn’t going to put up with any nonsense. She spoke in a flurry of words that left Sarina blinking in astonishment.

  “Justin, what are you doing sitting in my driveway with a girl? Weren’t you raised to bring her inside the house? Where are your manners? It’s like that boy that used to pull up and honk for your sister on dates. Disgusting.” Nana Orla turned her attention to Sarina, her grin a matching twin to Justin’s. “I apologize, love. Raised by wolves, I swear.”

  Her accent was amazing, full Irish and the kind that made getting chewed out a pure pleasure.

  “Here, give me the wee dog.” Before Sarina could warn her, Nana Orla reached in and picked up Wilma, tucking the dog close to her chest as she opened the door to the car.

  “Be careful, Nana. Wilma bites,” Justin warned, alarm wiping the smile from his face.

  “I doubt that,” Nana Orla responded, waving off the warning and placing a kiss on Wilma’s little head. “Get out of the car and explain why you’re the one bringing Adam’s baby sister over instead of him? He’s not been here for weeks and we have baby plans to make. And wedding plans, too. I don’t want him to think he’s getting away with not having a wedding.”

  Sarina got out of the car, squinting against the sunlight as she watched Justin fold the tiny woman into a hug, cutting it short when Wilma growled from her place tucked against Nana Orla’s generous chest. Justin’s grandmother was miniature, no more than five feet tall, her silver hair cut in a short angular bob that framed her face. Her eyes were a gray-blue and she wore little makeup except for the bright pink lipstick that matched the linen tunic and flowy pants she wore.

  There was only a little physical resemblance between Justin and his Nana, but they had the same energy and his grin was definitely due to her genetic contribution. In fact, the more Sarina observed them both together, the more she saw the similarity in their smiles and the mischievous gleam in their eyes.

  There might be two of her but Justin was the heir apparent of her brand of trouble. Sarina smiled in spite of herself, their obvious love and happiness at seeing each other was infectious.

  “Nana Orla, Adam asked me to bring Sarina over here. I’m just helping out my best friend,” Justin explained, sticking to the joint decision to let as few people as possible know about the marriage.

  Nana Orla’s gaze ping-ponged between them like she was at Wimbledon, her expression skeptical. “Don’t give me the shite, Justin Ling. I saw the two of you having some sort of altercation at the baby gender reveal party and then the two of you skittered off to Adam’s office and you were in there an awfully long time with Tess and Adam for me to buy that crackpot explanation.” She narrowed her gaze, her eyes lighting up as she looked Sarina up and down. “Are you pregnant, Sarina? Am I finally going to get a great-grandchild?”

  Sarina scooted backward, putting as much distance between her body and that insane idea as she could. “Uh, no. I’m not pregnant.”

  “That’s a shame,” Nana Orla said.

  “You already have five great-grandchildren, Nana Orla. You can drop the Princess Leia impression because I am not your only hope,” Justin said, acting like there was nothing weird about this conversation. “I’m just helping out a friend. We are just helping out a friend.”

  Nana Orla considered him for a moment and then she swiveled, turning all of her intense focus on Sarina. “Are you going to live under my roof and tell me that pack of lies, too? Justin is used to sweet-talking everybody and getting away with it but I’m not so easily fooled. I watched him fine-tune those skills from the crib.” She cocked her head to the side. “Spill it, Sarina. I know something’s going on. What mess has my grandson dragged you into?”

  Sarina glanced at Justin and he let out a long sigh. It was more resigned than frustrated so she took that as permission to come clean with Nana Orla...her new roomie.

  “I’m his wife.” Sarina rushed in to cut off the woman when she looked far too happy at this news. She didn’t want to see the fallout of raising her hopes and then being the one to let her down but it couldn’t be avoided. “Only temporarily. We’re getting it annulled.”

  Nana Orla eyeballed Justin, her expression disapproving. “I’m guessing one of your trips to Vegas was involved.” She shifted over and poked him in the chest. Her voice was chastising but her words were coated in the love and affection they clearly had flowing between them. Sarina looked away, pushing down the pang of longing that threatened to rise up in her chest. She turned back just in time to see Nana Orla flick him upside the head and then pat him on the cheek. “I’ve got you, Justin. I want to throttle you but I’ve got you.”

  “Geez. Warn a guy next time,” Justin grumbled, rubbing the spot on the back of his head with exaggerated care.

  The older lady shifted to include Sarina in her appraisal. Nana Orla scanned her up and down, her gaze assessing and thoroughly unnerving. It was like she could see right through her. “You look like a smart girl. How did you end up in this mess?”

  Sarin
a ran through the events of that night, discarding all the things she was never going to tell someone’s grandmother. She settled for the truth, minus a few details. “Justin is charming.”

  “He is,” she said, nodding. “I just can’t believe it worked on you.”

  “Hey!” Justin protested. “I’m right here.”

  Nana Orla waved him off. “I still love you anyway.”

  “Thank you, Nana Orla. One more thing. Don’t tell my folks about the marriage.”

  She rolled her eyes, poking him one last time and wagging a finger of warning in his face. “Now you need me to lie for you, too? Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I’m not doing this in the driveway, let’s go inside and get Sarina settled.”

  Justin leaned in to kiss Nana Orla’s cheek and Wilma bared her teeth, growls rumbling up from the little body cradled in his grandmother’s arms.

  “Well, at least Wilma’s got sense to stay away from you and your ‘charm.’”

  Six

  “How was the pajama party?” Justin asked.

  He grinned over at Sarina in the passenger seat of his car, trying to gauge how she’d fared her first night with Nana Orla. His wife was a blank slate, her expression neutral as she gazed out the window as they cruised down the highway toward the Rise Up Center. She looked over at him, one eyebrow raised and a smirk tugging at her lips.

  “Nana Orla stole my dog,” she said, her tone telling him that she wasn’t upset about this theft. “She bribed Wilma with lunch meat and tummy rubs so I slept alone.”

  Justin bit back the first thing that came to his lips: the offer to personally make sure she wasn’t alone in the king-size bed in the guest suite of his nana’s house. He had his own place, a sterile professionally decorated penthouse in the nicest retail/living town center in Silicon Valley. It was a place to sleep and grab a shower but he didn’t consider it a home. He’d taken women there and ushered them out the next morning with a cup of coffee and an apology that he didn’t have any food in the fridge. No, it wasn’t a home and he didn’t want to take Sarina there.

  If he had a home, it was at Nana Orla’s house. He’d crashed there before, usually when he just couldn’t stomach so much family time with his parents in the main house. It was why he’d immediately thought of moving Sarina there; that house was a safe place, a place where a person could weather storms with support and love. Tough love—Nana Orla was always going to call you on your crap—but you never doubted you were loved.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get her back before you leave,” he said, turning off the scenic highway, navigating busy streets and the typical glut of morning traffic. He glanced over at Sarina, surprised to find her still examining him. He maintained eye contact as long as he safely could, regretting that he hadn’t ordered a driver today. Sarina intrigued him and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “Although I’m not surprised Wilma gets along with Nana Orla.”

  “Me either,” Sarina mused, her voice resigned but amused. “It kept her from asking too many questions so I’m not complaining.” She laughed. “But I’m pretty sure that it was a reprieve, not a cease-fire, from the interrogation that is coming.”

  “You’re probably right,” he said, pausing before he asked a question he knew Sarina wasn’t going to answer. “So, what don’t you want to tell her?”

  Sarina turned, her gaze locked on his face, and he could just feel the mind-your-own-business death ray aimed at him.

  He shrugged. “What? I want to know more about my wife.”

  “You know what you need to know.”

  Justin knew he shouldn’t poke at her but he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted to know more about Sarina. If he was honest, he wanted to know everything. She fascinated him, and his desire for her had been immediate and visceral. He was a risk-taker, but that didn’t include making foolish, drunken mistakes. His risks were calculated and thoughtful and while they looked reckless, they weren’t stupid. Sarina had been...undeniable.

  He pushed. Because he was Justin Ling. “Why’d you leave the army?”

  She pushed back. Because she was Sarina Redhawk. “Why are you avoiding your parents?”

  Okay, score a point for Team Redhawk. He hadn’t said he was avoiding his parents but he’d shared the fact that he didn’t fit into his family and he hadn’t taken her to the mansion, he’d hidden her away at Nana Orla’s with strict instructions not to tell his folks.

  She was right. But that didn’t mean he was talking.

  “You first,” he said, winking at her.

  The pause was longer than usual, no doubt giving him time to retract the question. She had read him wrong. He was fine with awkward silences. He could do this all day long.

  “I had been in the army almost ten years and it was time for me to either sign up for the long haul toward retirement or to get out. The people I served with were all making the same decision, moving on with their families...it was time for me figure out my own path.”

  “And have you? Figured out your own path?”

  She shook her head. “I answered. Your turn.”

  That was the deal. “My parents don’t approve of my life choices. They think I could be better, could have done better. They think I don’t act like a Ling.”

  Sarina turned fully in her seat, the expression on her face incredulous. “Wait. A billion-dollar company isn’t good enough?”

  Justin turned into the entrance to the center, pulling his car into one of the reserved spots at the front. He unfastened his seat belt and turned to face Sarina. “Look, I don’t want to sound like a poor little rich kid, so don’t take it that way.” He paused, waiting until she nodded before he continued. Sarina’s expression was placid, no indication of where she was falling on this. “I wasn’t the high achiever like my brothers and sisters in the things that counted—school, grades, tests, appropriate behavior. I dropped out of Stanford after squeaking in because of my math ability, the one thing that made sense to me. I was dyslexic and a smart-ass and not the obedient son. They think my success is a fluke and that it will be gone in a minute.” He mimicked his father’s severe tone. “It’s not a stable undertaking.”

  Sarina scoffed at that. “That’s nuts. You’re a mega success. Most parents would kill to have a son who’s done as well as you have.”

  Justin shrugged it off. It wasn’t what he hadn’t thought a million times before. “My dad grew up in mainland China and broke all ties with his family, refusing an arranged marriage to be with my mom. They met when he was studying in England and she was there working at the university. They fell in love but his very traditional Chinese family disowned him when he ran off to the United States with her and got married. The marriage they were pushing on him had been a business arrangement and his refusal embarrassed them in the eyes of their friends and colleagues. Luckily my father had other family, also exiled, living here in California, and they took them in, helped him to build his business.”

  “So your parents were badass rebels who chose love. Sounds like they would totally embrace your way of life.” She patted the dashboard of the expensive car they were sitting in. “And it looks like it worked out okay, at least from the monetary point of view.”

  “Yeah, yeah. But my parents went old-school when it came to raising their kids. They went super-traditional and conservative, in a way, to make up for their rebellion. They loved us, I never doubted that, but their expectations didn’t leave room for a kid with a learning disability who had a gift for numbers and finance but who also likes to gamble and have no-string affairs with women.” He shook his head, still stumped by his folks. “We were expected to do the private school to college to good job in a respected field of work that pays well and marriage with a suitable woman. My parents are the poster children for social status. If it involves doing the ‘right’ thing and supporting the ‘right’ charities and all that rot, they are on it. It would be
funny if it wasn’t so exhausting. It has put a strain on our relationship, to put it mildly.”

  Sarina considered this, nodding her head in understanding. “And your brothers and sisters went along with it?”

  “Two doctors, a lawyer, and one taking over my dad’s real estate business. I’m the black sheep.”

  Silence settled between them. Sarina looked at him, shrugging in answer. “I don’t know what to say about that. Family is weird.”

  “It is.” Justin didn’t know what else to say about that, either. He’d just shared more with Sarina than he did with anyone and he needed to let it sit for a while. He needed to think about why it had been so easy to tell Sarina, why he’d wanted to tell Sarina. Time to change the subject. “This is the Rise Up Center.”

  He gestured at the building in front of them, opening his car door and motioning for Sarina to get out. He squinted against the bright sun. The sky was clear and the rising heat promised that today was going to be a scorcher. He clicked the lock on his key fob, joining his wife on the sidewalk. She was soaking it all in and he would be a liar to say that he wasn’t a little bit proud of the admiration on her face.

  “So, Nana Orla picked the name for the center. She’s a Hamilton fan, so...we went with it.”

  “Like you were going to tell Nana Orla no.”

  “Yeah, that’s never going to happen,” he agreed with a grin. “This center is something that Adam and I thought up on one of our many all-nighters in college. We made a pledge that when we made a shit ton of money, we’d create a center for kids who were in the foster system, specifically targeting the older kids who have a smaller chance for adoption or who are close to aging out. This place is for those kids.”

  Sarina smiled, her face lit up with approval and interest. “This is amazing. You have got to show me around.”

  Justin grinned, opening the door and waving her inside. “That is exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”