“I asked Simon and Vaughn to help transport the gifts to my apartment,” Isabelle explained.
“I don’t mind being used for my muscles. As long as there’s cake in return.” Simon kissed her affectionately on the cheek.
At mention of the word muscles, twenty pairs of female eyes shot to the tall and broad-shouldered Vaughn, who, naturally, looked devilishly gorgeous again, in jeans that hung perfectly on his lean hips and a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up around his strong, corded forearms.
Arms that once had pinned Sidney to the grass, as he kissed her senseless.
Ignoring the slightly . . . flustered feeling brought on by the image, she purged the memory from her mind. No point in going there.
Trish turned to Sidney, pointing subtly at Vaughn. “That is Simon’s brother? The one who hit on you?” She went back for a second look. “Criminy is right.”
“Trust me, the glow fades once he speaks,” Sidney grumbled.
As if sensing that she was talking about him, Vaughn’s gaze met hers across the room. He looked her over, taking in her dress and heels. Then he clenched his jaw and turned away to greet his mother.
“What was that?” Trish demanded to know, in a hushed tone.
Sidney tried to play innocent. “What was what?”
“That look between you and Vaughn,” Trish said. “I can’t decide if you two should box a few rounds or go screw each other brainless in the pantry.”
“My god, Trish—his mother is standing right over there.”
“In that case, I’d strongly suggest locking the pantry door should you choose option B.”
Very funny. Then Sidney spotted Amanda, Isabelle’s other single bridesmaid, noticeably eying Vaughn.
Something about that compelled her to lean in toward Trish. “If I tell you something, you can’t tell Isabelle or anyone else.”
Trish’s voice was hushed. “Ooh, I like this lead-in.”
“I just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” Sidney said.
“Obviously.”
“It meant nothing.”
“Of course it didn’t.”
Sidney lowered her voice more. “That weekend I went to Wisconsin with Isabelle, I kissed Vaughn.”
“Shut up. Why are you just telling me this now?” Trish whispered demandingly.
“Because it shouldn’t have happened.”
Trish cocked her head. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t even like him. He’s . . . irritating. And smug. He’s too confident, too in-shape, too good-looking—and far too aware of all those things.”
“No one’s telling you to marry the guy,” Trish said. “You’ve got your plan. Rock on. But why should you feel guilty about having a little fun with Mr. Right Now until Mr. Right comes along?”
Sidney opened her mouth, then paused, not having an immediate answer to that. “What am I going to do with a Mr. Right Now?” she asked skeptically.
“Anything you want.” Trish grinned slyly. “You want my advice?”
Sidney thought about that. “I don’t think so.”
Trish marched ahead anyway. “Forget about whether he’s irritating, Sid. Embrace the fact that he’s too in-shape and too good-looking. I know you’d envisioned yourself being on a different track at thirty-three, but there is one really awesome thing about being single.” She pointed across the room. “You can have meaningless, mind-blowing sex with a guy like that.”
Sidney stole a peek over her shoulder and saw Vaughn teasingly aw-ing as Simon pulled a dainty floral teacup out of one of the opened gift boxes.
Definitely not a Mr. Right.
With an easy grin, he folded his arms across his chest, which pulled his shirt up just enough to reveal the FBI badge and the gun holster at his right hip.
“Any ideas coming to you yet, about what you might do with a Mr. Right Now?” Trish asked teasingly.
Sidney stared at those broad shoulders and at the chest that had felt incredibly solid in those moments they’d been pressed together in the clearing.
It had been a while since she’d seen any action . . .
But then reality set in. This was Vaughn they were talking about. Even if she could get past the irritation and the smugness—and that was a big if—he was still her sister’s future brother-in-law. She turned to Trish, to explain. “It’s just not a good—”
Trish grabbed her arm, cutting her off. “Wow, he totally checked out your ass as soon as you turned around.” She pulled back to get a better look. “Mmm-hmm, I bet he’s a dirty talker. I bet he knows tricks. Seriously, Sid, you so need to get on this.”
A woman’s voice interrupted them. “What are you two gossiping about so intently over here?”
Sidney spun around, and smiled at the short, dark-haired woman walking over. “Kathleen—hello,” she said, with a nervous laugh as Vaughn’s mother approached. She scrambled to think of something to cover. Gossip? Nah, just having a few impure thoughts about your oldest son. “Trish and I were just saying how much we liked the china pattern Isabelle and Simon picked out.”
“Oh. From the looks on your faces, I thought it was something juicier than that,” Kathleen said, with a wink.
Awkward.
“Did you enjoy the lunch? Is there anything I can get you?” Sidney said, eager to move off that topic.
“That’s sweet of you to ask. But I’m good, thank you. Everything was delicious.”
They chatted amiably for a few minutes before Kathleen said she needed to get on the road for the drive back to Wisconsin. “But before I go, I have something for you.” She pulled something out of her purse, an ivory note card with a blue and orange floral border, and handed it to Sidney.
At the top, it said, “From the kitchen of Kathleen Roberts.” Sidney smiled, reading the line below it. “It’s your shepherd’s pie recipe.” It was such a simple thing, but she found herself quite touched by the gesture.
“You seemed to really enjoy it,” Kathleen said. “I figured maybe you’d want to make it yourself someday.”
“Thank you. I’ll do that.” Impulsively, Sidney hugged her before saying good-bye.
Trish raised an eyebrow after Kathleen had left. “When did you become a hugger?”
Good question. Sidney shrugged this off. “She’s sweet. Isabelle struck mother-in-law gold with that one.”
Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then Isabelle turned to Sidney. “Should we sneak another glass of champagne from the cute bartender?”
With a smile, Sidney nodded. “I’m in.”
• • •
WHIRLWIND-STYLE, THE PEOPLE from the catering company swept through Sidney’s first floor and began packing up all the food, drinks, glasses, and dishes as soon as the last guest left. Wanting to stay out of the way, Vaughn headed outside to Sidney’s private courtyard and took a seat in one of the cushioned lounge chairs. Either she or the previous owners had transformed the yard into a cozy urban garden, complete with shrubs, brightly hued flowers, brick pavers, and a small stone water fountain.
Apparently the Sinclairs liked their water fountains.
Vaughn caught sight of the lady of the house as she breezed by the French doors while answering some question posed by one of the catering crew. She was wearing another one of her trendy dresses, he’d noticed. This one was a white, billowy minidress belted at the waist with a thin gold band—which she’d paired with gold strappy heels that made her legs look sky-high.
One of the reasons he’d come out to the courtyard was to stay out of her way. He’d found it nearly impossible to be around her and that dress without remembering the moments in the clearing when she’d straddled him with those spectacular legs as they kissed feverishly. And since he was pretty sure it would be poor form to walk around with a raging hard-on in front of her sister and his
brother, he’d figured it was best to keep his distance.
As if determined to thwart him, Sidney opened the French doors and stepped out into the courtyard.
She ignored him at first, looking around the yard, and then put her hand on her hip. “Have you seen Isabelle?” she finally asked him.
“I saw her and Simon go upstairs about ten minutes ago.”
“Oh.” She looked him over with cool blue-green eyes. “We still have half the presents to load up, if you want to make yourself useful.”
“Nah, I’m good. Being useful is overrated.” Seeing the spark in her eyes, he fought back a grin. “I’m kidding, Sinclair. I need the keys to Simon’s car in order to load up the rest of the gifts, but I was thinking it might not be a good idea to follow him and Isabelle upstairs. I don’t want to see anything involving the two of them that can’t be unseen.”
That got a slight smile out of her. “I doubt they’re fooling around up there.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “What do I know? Maybe the sight of tiny teacups gets engaged couples all worked up.”
She considered this, then made a face, as if getting a visual. “If they’re not back down in a couple minutes, I’ll brave it and go looking for them.”
Not seeming to know what else to do—he was the one remaining guest in her house—she took a seat in the chair across from him. She crossed her legs, her dress hiking a few extra inches up her thighs.
Vaughn looked, then returned his eyes to her.
There was a slight pink flush to her cheeks, as if she’d noticed him checking her out, but her tone remained casual. “So. How’s your investigation going? Has the ‘other you’ been hanging out in any dark, sketchy alleys doing dark, sketchy things?”
“Actually, that’s exactly what the other me will be doing on Monday night.” Vaughn said.
“Really?” Sidney cocked her head, studying him. “I can’t picture this other you.”
“You wouldn’t like the guy. In addition to being a criminal, he’s got this continuous five-o’clock shadow problem.”
In response to his comment, her gaze held on the stubble along his jawline.
She shifted in her chair.
“I saw my mother give you her shepherd’s pie recipe,” Vaughn said. “That’s a big stamp of approval, coming from her.”
“Your mother obviously is an excellent judge of character,” she said.
“And you say that I’m confident.”
The words fell between them, both of them fully aware that she’d made the comment just before they’d gotten all tangled up in each other in the clearing.
Vaughn couldn’t help it. Alone with her like this, he could practically feel the nip of her teeth on his lip, the erotic sensation of her fingers digging into his back. It was that damn minidress. He envisioned himself kneeling in front of her, pushing that dress the rest of the way up her thighs and making her scream with his mouth.
Her chest moved up and down, her breath a little quicker. “You shouldn’t look at me that way.”
His voice was a low growl. “Believe me, baby, I’m trying not to.”
The creamy skin along her neckline turned pink, and he could see her nipples tighten through the thin material of her dress.
Christ.
She opened her mouth to answer and—
“There you are.”
Vaughn forced himself not to react to the interruption. Simon, again.
Then he turned his head and knew instantly from his brother’s expression that something was up. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Isabelle.” Simon looked over at Sidney. “I think we might need to get her to the hospital.”
Fourteen
SIDNEY WAS UP out of her chair in an instant. “Where is she?”
“In the guest bathroom upstairs,” Simon said.
Nodding, she hurried into the house, climbing the stairs with him right on her heels. The guest bathroom was the first door on the left; Sidney pushed it open and found Isabelle sitting on floor, clutching her abdomen.
“Sid. I think something might be wrong with the baby.”
Sidney knelt down beside her sister, struck by how pale she looked. “Are you bleeding?”
“No, I checked. But it hurts a lot.” Isabelle winced, breathing shakily. “The pain started this morning. At first I thought it was just a bad stomach cramp because I felt nauseous, too. But it’s getting worse.” She clutched Sidney’s hand.
“It’s okay, Izz,” she said, her tone more reassuring than she felt. “Let’s just get you to the hospital and find out what’s happening.”
When Isabelle nodded, Simon stepped in and scooped her into his arms. “I’ve got you,” he murmured soothingly as he stood up. “Everything going’s to be fine.”
They found Vaughn waiting at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes filled with concern when he saw Simon carrying Isabelle.
“We need to get her to the emergency room,” Sidney told him.
“I’ll drive,” he said, already moving toward the door.
A few moments later, Vaughn skillfully—and hastily—zipped his car through the heavy traffic on Michigan Avenue. Sidney looked over her shoulder and saw Simon tenderly stroking Isabelle’s arm in the backseat. She lay curled against his chest, one hand over her abdomen, her mouth set tight in pain.
“Hang in there, Izz. We’re almost there.” As she turned back, her eyes met Vaughn’s.
“We’re just a few blocks away,” he told her. “I’m going to drop you guys at the door. Then I’ll park the car and meet you inside.”
“I think the hospital has valet.” Sidney bounced her leg nervously, stealing another look at the backseat.
“It’s my work vehicle. I can’t let anyone else drive it.” Vaughn grabbed his cell phone from the console between them and handed it to her. “Add your phone number to my contacts in case I need to text you.”
Sidney took a deep breath. “Right.” She finished typing just as they pulled up to the entrance to Northwestern Memorial’s emergency room.
Vaughn threw the car into park and took the phone that Sidney gave back to him. His hand brushed against hers.
“I’ll find you,” he said.
She nodded.
Then they both got out of the car. Vaughn held the door as Simon eased Isabelle out, and then Sidney followed behind Simon as he carried her sister into the emergency room. Moments after he explained to the nurse behind the intake desk that Isabelle was pregnant and in a lot of pain, another nurse came out with a wheelchair. That nurse wheeled Isabelle through a set of double doors, with Simon walking alongside them and filling in the details as Isabelle gritted her teeth and told the nurse her symptoms.
They turned a corner, and the nurse took Isabelle into a small private room. She and Simon helped Isabelle get onto the bed, and then the nurse stepped toward the door, gesturing for Sidney to follow.
“If I could ask you to wait out in the hall,” she said, with a reassuring smile. “The doctor will be in right away to examine her.”
But that’s my little sister. Sidney nodded. “Of course.” As she left the room, she spotted a doctor wearing a white coat and scrubs heading down the corridor toward them. Sidney moved off to the side as the doctor breezed by. She heard him introduce himself to Isabelle and Simon and then—
The door shut behind him.
Sidney stood there for a moment, in the middle of the hallway. Then she spotted an alcove nearby, walked over, and took a seat on the bench.
All those times she’d been so snarky, calling Isabelle the crazy pregnant lady in her head. And now . . .
She bit her lip, fighting back a wave of emotions.
Vaughn turned into the hallway just then. Seeing Sidney, he headed over and sat down next to her on the bench. “How is Isabelle?”
Sidney shook her head. No clue. “I don’t understand what happened. She was fine during the shower, and then this came out of nowhere.” She fought back the sting in her eyes, her voice trembling a little. “She’s just in so much pain. I’ve never seen Isabelle look that scared before.”
Vaughn put his arm around her. “She’ll be okay,” he said soothingly. “She’s in good hands, Sidney. They’ll take care of her.”
Sidney rested her head against his shoulder. They stayed that way for several moments, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. When she finally pulled back, he peered down into her eyes.
He reached up and gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted them. Sidney blinked and slid over on the bench as a nurse led a patient into the room next to Isabelle’s.
“Thanks,” she said to Vaughn, managing a slight smile. “I’m okay now.”
Fortunately, they only had to wait a few minutes. The ER doctor stepped out of the room and hurried down the hallway, and then Simon came out to give them an update.
“It’s not the baby,” he said, first thing. “They did an ultrasound—Isabelle has a twisted ovary. The ER doctor wants to bring in an OB/GYN specialist for a consult, but he said that she needs to have surgery right away. He says that if they act quickly, they have a good chance of saving the ovary.”
Sidney exhaled, digesting that. “How is Isabelle? Can I see her?”
Simon nodded. “She’s asking for you. The nurse gave her some medicine for the pain, which helped.”
Thank god. Not wasting another moment, Sidney got up and walked into her sister’s room.
• • •
WHEN IT WAS just Simon and Vaughn out in the hallway, Simon blew out a ragged breath of air and sat down on the bench. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a moment to decompress.
Finally, he looked sideways at Vaughn. “So. I guess this is probably a good time to mention that Isabelle is pregnant.”
That got a small chuckle out of Vaughn. “I kind of figured that already. I’ve had my suspicions for a few weeks.”