me?"
"You should be thrilled." She brushed past him and tromped upstairs. Greg didn't smell nearly as good as the downstairs guy. "I hope you have something to eat. I canceled my dinner date for you."
"The kitchen is this way," he said when they reached the top. "Can you cook?"
"I can't even boil water," she said cheerfully as she followed him back.
"That makes two of us. But you're in luck, I make a mean club sandwich." He waved to a bar stool on one side of the island in the middle of his kitchen. "Sit."
"No questions about why I'm here?" She perched on the stool and dropped her coat on the floor next to her.
He started to pull stuff out of the fridge. "I figured you'd get to that in your own time."
"You're not the least bit curious?"
"Oh, I'm curious all right." He nudged the door shut and reached for a baguette on the side counter. "Specifically because I'm sure your sister doesn't know you're here."
"Hell no." She shuddered dramatically. "If Freya knew I was here she'd give me a time out."
Greg chuckled. "You seem too old for a time out."
"I'm twenty-one."
He paused in the act of cutting a large section of bread for her sandwich. "You say that like you aren't sure whether you're old enough or not."
"It's complicated. Are you ever old enough where your parents are concerned?"
"Freya isn't your parent."
"She might as well be. She raised me." She pursed her lips. She'd come here to quiz him and he'd neatly started pulling information out of her. Slick. No wonder he was a hotshot lawyer. "Don't your parents still treat you like you're their little boy?"
He snorted. "I'm surprised when my parents remember to send me a card on my birthday."
"Really?" Her memories of her parents were dim, but she remembered that they'd been loving. She leaned in, her chin resting on her palm. "How does that make you feel?"
He cocked an eyebrow at her as he stacked her bread with an assortment of meat. "Are you studying to be a psychiatrist?"
"Nah, I'm in art school." She sighed.
"You don't sound enthused about it."
"Do you enjoy what you do?"
"Yeah." He glanced at her as he placed tomato slices on the pile. "Why?"
"Just curious." She wasn't sure she wanted to divulge her secret to him yet, so she changed the subject really quickly. "Having cold parents had to have colored your world view. Are you interested in having children?"
"That would depend on the woman I end up marrying, wouldn't it?" He opened a cabinet behind him and pulled out a plate.
"Yeah, but what if she wanted to have kids? How would you treat them?"
"Like they were my world."
Muscles she didn't know were tensed relaxed, and she exhaled in relief. "And your wife?"
He carefully transferred the sandwich to the plate. "I don't have one."
"But you want to have one, right? Would you take care of her? Are you dating anyone?"
He eyed her as he pushed her food across the counter. "I like you, kid, but not like that. You need to find someone better suited to you."
For some reason, the guy downstairs flashed in her mind, which was totally ridiculous because she didn't know him at all.
Then she realized what Greg had said. "No! For frick's sake, I'm not trying to pick up on you."
"That's a relief."
"That's just gross. I mean, you're hot and all, but geez"—she shuddered—"you're ancient."
"Thanks," he said dryly.
"And Freya likes you, so you're practically like a brother." She gave him a flat gaze. "Incest is not cool."
"No, it's not." He crossed his arms and leaned on the counter behind him. "But I think you got your signals mixed up about Freya. She hates my guts."
Anna shook her head. "I don't think so."
"Maybe it's time you told me why you're here tonight." He opened the fridge and pulled out a beer before dragging out a stool for himself.
"Can I have one?" She nodded at the beer.
"No."
She frowned."Why not?"
"Because you're driving home."
"It's just one beer." She huffed when he stared at her implacably. "You're not my brother
"You should be thrilled." She brushed past him and tromped upstairs. Greg didn't smell nearly as good as the downstairs guy. "I hope you have something to eat. I canceled my dinner date for you."
"The kitchen is this way," he said when they reached the top. "Can you cook?"
"I can't even boil water," she said cheerfully as she followed him back.
"That makes two of us. But you're in luck, I make a mean club sandwich." He waved to a bar stool on one side of the island in the middle of his kitchen. "Sit."
"No questions about why I'm here?" She perched on the stool and dropped her coat on the floor next to her.
He started to pull stuff out of the fridge. "I figured you'd get to that in your own time."
"You're not the least bit curious?"
"Oh, I'm curious all right." He nudged the door shut and reached for a baguette on the side counter. "Specifically because I'm sure your sister doesn't know you're here."
"Hell no." She shuddered dramatically. "If Freya knew I was here she'd give me a time out."
Greg chuckled. "You seem too old for a time out."
"I'm twenty-one."
He paused in the act of cutting a large section of bread for her sandwich. "You say that like you aren't sure whether you're old enough or not."
"It's complicated. Are you ever old enough where your parents are concerned?"
"Freya isn't your parent."
"She might as well be. She raised me." She pursed her lips. She'd come here to quiz him and he'd neatly started pulling information out of her. Slick. No wonder he was a hotshot lawyer. "Don't your parents still treat you like you're their little boy?"
He snorted. "I'm surprised when my parents remember to send me a card on my birthday."
"Really?" Her memories of her parents were dim, but she remembered that they'd been loving. She leaned in, her chin resting on her palm. "How does that make you feel?"
He cocked an eyebrow at her as he stacked her bread with an assortment of meat. "Are you studying to be a psychiatrist?"
"Nah, I'm in art school." She sighed.
"You don't sound enthused about it."
"Do you enjoy what you do?"
"Yeah." He glanced at her as he placed tomato slices on the pile. "Why?"
"Just curious." She wasn't sure she wanted to divulge her secret to him yet, so she changed the subject really quickly. "Having cold parents had to have colored your world view. Are you interested in having children?"
"That would depend on the woman I end up marrying, wouldn't it?" He opened a cabinet behind him and pulled out a plate.
"Yeah, but what if she wanted to have kids? How would you treat them?"
"Like they were my world."
Muscles she didn't know were tensed relaxed, and she exhaled in relief. "And your wife?"
He carefully transferred the sandwich to the plate. "I don't have one."
"But you want to have one, right? Would you take care of her? Are you dating anyone?"
He eyed her as he pushed her food across the counter. "I like you, kid, but not like that. You need to find someone better suited to you."
For some reason, the guy downstairs flashed in her mind, which was totally ridiculous because she didn't know him at all.
Then she realized what Greg had said. "No! For frick's sake, I'm not trying to pick up on you."
"That's a relief."
"That's just gross. I mean, you're hot and all, but geez"—she shuddered—"you're ancient."
"Thanks," he said dryly.
"And Freya likes you, so you're practically like a brother." She gave him a flat gaze. "Incest is not cool."
"No, it's not." He crossed his arms and leaned on the counter behind him. "But I think you got your signals mixed up about Freya. She hates my guts."
Anna shook her head. "I don't think so."
"Maybe it's time you told me why you're here tonight." He opened the fridge and pulled out a beer before dragging out a stool for himself.
"Can I have one?" She nodded at the beer.
"No."
She frowned."Why not?"
"Because you're driving home."
"It's just one beer." She huffed when he stared at her implacably. "You're not my brother
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