Step Lover

  © 2015 Stephanie Brother

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented are 18 or over.

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  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Epilogue

  Excerpt of Stepbrother Savior

  Sampling of Available Titles

  About the Author

  Step Lover

  Stephanie Brother

  Chapter One

  “Congratulations, Zoe.”

  She stiffened at the voice she hadn’t heard in three years. Feeling like she was trapped in one of those cheesy slow-mo moments in an action movie, she turned away from her grandmother to face the man she hadn’t seen in three years. She’d half-hoped she would never see again, since he’d left without a goodbye.

  He hadn’t changed much, except to get more attractive. Living in England had clearly agreed with him, despite his skin not being as tanned as when he’d left San Diego. His hair had settled into a darker shade of blond, no longer kept platinum from his days at the beach, but it suited him. His eyes were still that strange shade of silvery blue that drew her in.

  Realizing she was unconsciously leaning into him, she jerked her spine taut to increase the distance between them. Somehow, she managed to summon a ghost of a smile. “Hello, Hale. Your father didn’t mention you were coming to my graduation party.”

  “It isn’t every day a little sister graduates from college.” He held out a small box with the words.

  She ignored the box. “Stepsister.”

  His eyes dimmed for just a moment, and he nodded once. “Stepsister,” he echoed. A second later, his expression flickered back to one of politeness. “You finished a year early, right?”

  She nodded, finally taking the box when she realized he would keep holding it out to her all night if she didn’t. It could prove awkward with the small gathering of family if they picked up on any tension between them. “Thank you.” She had to force herself to open the light pink ribbon and flip open the box. “It’s lovely.” Touching the gold pen, she turned it slightly to read the inscription.

  “To all your successes. Love, Hale.”

  Reading the “L” word, she nearly chucked the pen at him, but somehow managed to keep her expression pleasant as she put the lid on it and tucked the box into the pocket of her white sundress.

  “I thought you might be able to use it at your summer internship. Your mother mentioned you got one at the Sarta Museum?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be working in their ancient history wing, and it could become a permanent position if I impress the right people.”

  A flash of something more than brotherly warmth flashed through his eyes. “How could you not impress everyone, Zoe?”

  For a millisecond, she forgot her anger and hurt as their gazes locked. Heat licked her belly, and her panties grew damp at the hunger she saw in his gaze. Or she thought she saw, because when he blinked, it was gone. Good thing, because her mother came to stand with them.

  “Hale, darling, I’m so glad you could come,” said Monica with what appeared to be genuine delight at her stepson’s appearance. “You kept putting me off.”

  Hale gave her a charming grin. “To be fair, Monica, I had my assistant keep putting you off.”

  Monica laughed. “You’re a wily one to get on the phone.”

  “That must be why Dad rarely bothers,” said Hale blandly.

  Zoe frowned, not understanding that. She’d always thought Hale and Andy were close. Had he avoided his father as much as he had her the past three years? Or had Andy imposed the distance for some reason? Had his father had something to do with Hale’s abrupt departure three years ago?

  Even if he had, it didn’t explain or excuse Hale completely disappearing from her life without a word of parting. They weren’t even Facebook friends or following each other on Twitter, and she had her former B.F.F. from kindergarten on both. If she wasn’t even important enough to be on his lists for either place—and she’d been stalkerish enough to verify he had accounts—then she meant absolutely nothing to him.

  So why was he here?

  “Why are you here?”

  Zoe thought she had accidentally asked the question, but realized it came from her stepfather’s mouth as he joined them. Andy looked angry. No, not angry, but possibly annoyed. He was certainly on-edge.

  “Hey, Dad,” said Hale in an aloof tone.

  “He’s here for his sister’s graduation, of course,” said Monica. She seemed oblivious to any undercurrents.

  Did that mean Zoe had imagined them all? Her mother was a sweet woman and not known for exceptional intelligence, but she had a huge reservoir of empathy, so if she didn’t detect a problem, there probably wasn’t one. She was just imagining it all—the way she had imagined that moment three years ago.

  After a hesitation, Andy extended his hand. “It’s good to see you, son. I guess you’re all done with that…training?”

  Hale nodded. “Yes, but I still travel a lot for the company. Still, it was time to come home.”

  Zoe was sure she didn’t imagine the look they exchanged, or that it held special significance.

  After another second, Andy dropped his hand and hugged his son instead. “It’s good to see you again, Hale.”

  Hale’s eyes seemed to darken, and he sounded a little choked when he responded. “Yeah, Dad.”

  After that, the group split again, and Zoe managed to avoid Hale until the catering company announced dinner was ready to serve. She had chosen an intimate celebration with just her mom, stepdad, sister, and grandparents, but Andy had insisted on making it a special occasion.

  The caterers had set the dining room with elegant white linens and Monica’s fine china. Freshly polished silver at the plates and the crystal goblets complemented the centerpiece of fresh tiger lilies.

  Somehow, Zoe ended up beside Hale, and she couldn’t refuse when he held out her chair and assisted her to the table. She hid a grimace when he sat on her left side. Her grandfather was on her right. Deciding to focus on him, she started to ply Ernie with questions about their trip from Phoenix.

  Grandpa tapped his hearing aid. “Sorry, Zoe, but I can’t hear you. My batteries are dead.”

  On his right, Grandma Rose sniffed. “And do you think he packed a spare pair?” Shaking her head, though she gave her husband an affectionate look, she turned back to her conversation with Andy’s mother. Nora had become another grandmother to Zoe and Lola during the six years Monica and Andy had been married.

  Thanks to Grandpa’s lack of batteries and her reluctance to engage with Hale, the talk was small on her end of the table. She kept her attention focused mainly on her plate. The roasted duck was done to perfection, but it wasn’t enough to keep her from being hyperaware of her stepbrother sitting just a few feet away. The spicy tang of his cologne teased her nostrils. It was the same he’d worn three years ago, and it stirred up forbidden memories of being held in his arms.

  “Did you work out the roommate problem?” asked Lola from farther down the table. She had Monica and Zoe’s long black hair, but her eyes were the same brown their father’s had been, while Zoe shared Monica’s vibrant green.

&n
bsp; Zoe wondered why she had noticed suddenly how grown up her sister looked, but realized it was because she was focusing on her own progression too. She was twenty-one and out of college. About to start a career, she was a woman in the eyes of the world.

  So why did sitting beside Hale still leave her feeling like an awkward teenager?

  “Hello, Earth to Zoe?”

  “Huh?” She blinked, focusing on Lola again. “Sorry, what?”

  “I asked if you worked out the roommate problem?”

  “What roommate problem?” asked Hale, sounding only politely disinterested.

  “My friend and I had planned to share an apartment in New York, at least for the summer, but her plans have changed.”

  “The city is so expensive,” said Monica, looking worried. “And Zoe is too stubborn to accept help.”

  “I’m an adult, Mom, and I need to pay my own way.” Zoe couldn’t explain to her mother why she was reluctant to take money from Andy. He was a great guy and had been a good father figure the past six years, but it just felt wrong to take his money. She thought she would have felt the same if her mother had been offering the funds, or if Sam Halston had left anything besides debt behind for his wife and daughters.

  “Stay with me,” said Hale.

  “What?” asked Zoe and Andy in unison.

  “Really?” asked Lola, looking enthused. “That would be neat, huh, Zoe?”

  “Neat,” she agreed with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

  Andy wiped his mouth. “That sounds like a bad idea to me, Hale.”

  Hale stared at his father for a second before lifting a hand. “I should clarify that Zoe would be staying in my apartment, but I won’t be there. I’m in the middle of a delicate deal and will spend most of the summer in Europe.” He turned to her, flashing her that smile that had charmed panties off girls since he was old enough to use it for that purpose. “You’d be doing me a favor, sis.”

  She shuddered at the word, but forced herself to sound normal. “How’s that?”

  “I’d planned to hire a pet sitter to take care of Bomber while I’m away.”

  Zoe didn’t try to fight the smile that bloomed on her face. “You still have that old cat?”

  “Heck, yeah. Bomber’s my mate…pal.” A touch of red at his ears was adorable in an alarming way, making her heart race. “Too long among the Brits, I guess.”

  “You do have a touch of the accent,” said his grandmother.

  “How much for the rent?” asked Lola, ever-practical even at sixteen. She was an accountant trapped in a Goth girl’s body.

  “Nothing, of course. What kind of creep charges family, especially since Zoe would be doing me a favor by taking care of Bomber?”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” said Monica before arching a brow. “That won’t be too much for your stubborn pride, will it, Zoe?”

  Her face burned hot with embarrassment, but she shook her head. “Thanks, Hale.” What she really wanted to do was shove away from the table, toss the offer in his face, and storm out.

  Still, how bad could it be? She’d have an apartment to herself, aside from an elderly cat, and she wouldn’t have to use any of the money she’d saved the past three years working as a makeup counterperson at Macy’s on her rent. Hale wouldn’t be there, so there was no good reason to say no. “It’s very generous of you.”

  “We’re family.” There appeared to be the slightest hint of irony in his voice, but it disappeared when he spoke again. “I’m happy to help you out, Zoe.”

  Chapter Two

  New York was everything she’d heard it would be—crowded, hot, unfriendly, and expensive. Zoe loved it despite its flaws and settled into Hale’s small but luxurious studio apartment easily enough. Within two weeks, she felt like she’d been living there forever. Her internship at the museum had the same sense of familiarity, and she had a good feeling about getting a permanent position at the end of the unpaid internship.

  Bomber was a considerate roommate who only rarely spilled water on the floor or scattered cat food around the kitchen. He was content to curl up on her lap at night and let her rub his ears while he purred with quiet contentment.

  It was the closest thing she’d come to a date in years, and she didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed that it was Hale’s cat who was filling the void for companionship, since the man himself had been the one to screw her up for dating others.

  Her sense of routine came to a screeching halt when she returned to the apartment almost three weeks after moving in. Tired from a long day of cataloguing Roman undergarments, which was more taxing than she had expected, she opened the door and stepped inside before it hit her that she hadn’t had to unlock it first.

  That was wrong, and she was immediately sure someone had broken into the apartment to…cook lasagna? Sniffing deeply, she was certain she smelled Grandma Nora’s pasta sauce, which was always paired with béchamel and homemade lasagna noodles. Monica had been married to Andy for three years before Nora had trusted her with the recipe.

  “Mom?” she called.

  The swinging door to the kitchen opened, revealing the startling and unlikely sight of Hale in suit trousers, an oxford shirt rolled to his elbows, and a serviceable black apron. Flour dotted the front and a smear lingered on his cheek.

  It was a devastatingly sexy sight, and she had to catch her breath and count to three before she did something crazy, like throw herself at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here,” he said with a neutral smile.

  Zoe nodded. “Yeah, of course.” Awkwardly, she shifted on the balls of her feet. “Um, I meant what are you doing home right now?”

  “Making lasagna.”

  Her eyes widened. “You know how to make Nora’s lasagna?”

  He nodded. “She showed me when I was just fourteen. We bonded over the process. That was the year my mom died, and she used cooking therapy to communicate with me when I was an uncommunicative teenage boy who didn’t know how to express my anger and grief.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know.” Hale was a whiz in the kitchen? It had never occurred to her, simply because he seemed too impressive and above mere mortals to engage in such domestic simplicity. Apparently not though.

  She drew her full lower lip between her teeth before releasing it. “Shouldn’t you be in England though?”

  “I’m home for a bit.”

  “Oh, okay.” Zoe cast a glance at the living room-cum-bedroom, where a large king-size bed dominated most of the space. She had slept on it almost every night since moving in, but only after investing in her own set of sheets. The idea of using the same sheets Hale slept on had been too intimate, and she’d spent the first night on the leather loveseat. Dreading a return to that torture device, she decided to worry about that later and focus on just getting through a civilized dinner with Hale first.

  Unless… “Are you expecting company? A woman? I can make myself scarce.”

  Hale grinned. “I did cook for a beautiful woman.”

  “Um, okay. Do I have a few minutes to change to something more casual, or is she coming right away?”

  Hale chuckled and walked closer. “It’s you, Zoe. I made dinner for you.”

  “Oh.” Swaying toward him, as though he’d drawn her with a mysterious magnetic pull, she barely managed to keep from reaching out to wipe the flour off his cheek. “That’s great. Thanks. Do I have time to change?”

  He nodded. “You have about ten minutes. Can I pour you a glass of wine to go with dinner?”

  “Sure.” Zoe hurried toward the bathroom, taking a moment to grab yoga pants and a modest tank top from the small closet in the hallway. Once safely enclosed in the bathroom, she leaned against the door, wishing for a lock, and took several deep breaths for calm.

  Trying to push aside her nervousness, she stripped off the linen skirt and button-down blouse. Out of habit, she removed her bra and had dropped it on the pile before reconsidering. Zoe stared at her breasts in the mirro
r, debating if she needed the bra to cover her small endowment, or if she could get by with the tank, as she typically did.

  Reminding herself she had worn very similar clothes in front of Hale many times in the past, she slipped on the yoga pants and tank. As she started to leave the bathroom, she also remembered the night she’d been in his arms, and her feelings had changed from innocent to sexual in moments.

  Quickly, she pulled off the tank and refastened the white bra before putting on the top. With a final glance in the mirror, deciding the bun she’d wound her dark hair into that morning was still intact enough for a casual dinner with her stepbrother, she opened the bathroom door and tried to walk normally down the hall, toward the kitchen.

  When she pushed open the swinging door that separated the kitchen and dining space from the rest of the studio apartment, she found two plates at the breakfast bar, along with a full glass of wine. Hale stood at the stove, his own glass on the nearby counter, as he tossed a salad.

  “Can I help?”

  “No, thanks. I have it all under control.” He sipped his wine. “Just sit down and relax.”

  Zoe nodded, sliding awkwardly into the tall chair. Nervousness made her motions graceless. Thankfully, he was too occupied with finishing the salad and turning off the oven timer to notice.

  By the time he turned around after sitting the lasagna on the stove, she hoped she looked composed. The death grip on her wineglass bordered on white-knuckled, but she couldn’t completely relax. “It smells delicious.” That wasn’t a lie, and her stomach growled.

  Her eyes grew big as he dished them up a serving from the huge pan. Unless he was planning to take some back to England, she’d have leftover lasagna for days. Still, there were worse things—like eating her own cooking.

  The wine was crisp and tart, making it slide easily down her throat. She’d already finished half a glass by the time he’d stripped off his apron and hopped onto the chair beside hers. Their knees touched, but she couldn’t scoot over any farther in the small space.

  “How was your day?” he asked as they ate.