LITMIR.BIZ

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boy you are now?”

      “Very funny, sis.” Roarke scrubbed at his face with a damp bar napkin. “I agreed to be your plus-one for tonight. I didn’t agree to make out with every retirement-age woman in the room.”

      “But you’re so good at it, little brother.” Angela was clearly amused. “Seriously, thank you for coming. Esme, Melinda and Tatiana all had plans tonight.”

      Tatiana Havery had been one of Angela’s best friends for as long as he could remember.

      Angela thanked the bartender for her apple martini. She sipped it. “Mmm... That’s good.”

      “I’ll have what she’s having.”

      Roarke’s attention jolted to the source of the familiar voice. He’d only heard it once, but he’d never forget it.

      “Lemon icebox pie,” Roarke said as his gaze met her warm brown eyes. Eyes he hadn’t been able to forget since he’d seen them in Farrah’s Coffee Shop a few days ago.

      “Two pies,” she responded with a tip of her chin. Her smile lit up the entire room. A smile he could easily get lost in. She turned to his sister. “Angela, it’s good to see you.”

      “Wait... You two know each other?” Roarke’s gaze shifted between the two women.

      Something in his sister’s demeanor changed when the woman from the coffee shop approached. She smiled uneasily as she introduced them. “Roarke, this is Annabel Currin. Annabel, this is my brother, Roarke Perry.”

      Those big brown eyes widened. “You’re Roarke Perry?”

      “Guilty.” He held up his scotch and soda.

      The mystery woman was Ryder Currin’s daughter. That explained his sister’s reaction.

      “It’s good to see you, too, Annabel. You look beautiful.” Angela fidgeted with her bag. “How’s your father doing?”

      “He’s hurt,” the woman said pointedly, but her tone and expression softened slightly. “And miserable. He really misses you.”

      A look of relief passed over his sister’s face and the corners of her eyes looked wet. “Please tell him that I miss him, too.”

      “No way. I’m not the messenger girl.” Annabel’s tone was kind but firm. “If you want him to know, you’re going to have to tell him yourself. You know where to find him.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind.” Angela nodded, then walked away.

      “Angela,” the young woman called. “Please do.”

      His sister smiled, then disappeared into the crowd.

      “ID, please, miss,” the bartender said.

      Annabel frowned and produced her driver’s license from her handbag.

      The bartender nodded, then slid the apple martini toward her.

      She picked it up and took a sip. “That is good.”

      Roarke scanned the woman. She was gorgeous in a floor-length blue gown that reminded him of something a Greek goddess would wear. Athena, Artemis or perhaps Aphrodite.

      The smooth creamy skin of her back and shoulders gleamed, highlighted with a dusting of glitter that augmented her ethereal beauty. The peekaboo feature at the front of her dress exposed a little of her midriff.

      Roarke glanced again at her left hand. The huge rock she’d been sporting a few days earlier was notably absent.

      One corner of Annabel’s mouth curled in a grin as she took another sip of her martini. She leaned in and whispered, “I don’t know if you know this, Two Pies, but you’re staring. It’s frowned upon in polite society.”

      “Is Two Pies my official rap name?” Roarke straightened his tie, trying his best to mask his amusement.

      She laughed, setting her glass on the bar. “I thought it sounded better than Not-My-Brother.”

      “Oh, so Ryder told you about that, huh?” Roarke signaled for another scotch and soda.

      “My dad tries to be as open and honest as he can be with everyone in his life.” Her statement implied that his father didn’t operate that way. She’d get no argument from him. “Besides, we’re not kids anymore. He wanted me and my siblings to be armed with the truth, should we be confronted with the accusation. He offered to show me the paternity test, but I didn’t need to see it. I know my father.”

      “That’s how I feel about my mother.” He accepted the scotch and soda. “So I didn’t believe it, either.”

      “Well, here’s to not being siblings.” She raised her glass, clinking it with his. “Because that would make this very awkward.”

      Before he could ask what she meant, she’d pressed a hand to his chest, lifted onto her toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

      Roarke froze, startled by her sudden action.

      Annabel laughed. “I can’t figure out if the kiss was that bad or that good.”

      “It was good. Definitely...good.” Roarke cleared his throat. He took a healthy sip of his drink. “But the other day, I’m pretty sure you were engaged, Lemon Icebox Pie.”

      “You’re quite observant, Two Pies.” Something about Annabel’s mischievous smile warmed his chest. “You’re quite correct. Were being the operative word. The chauvinist formerly known as my fiancé called off the wedding.”

      “If you don’t mind my saying so, Thank-God-You’re-Not-My-Sister, you seem to be taking the breakup remarkably well.”

      “I’m mature that way.” Her brown eyes sparkled and she barely restrained a laugh. “That and, if I’m being honest, there was a part of me that had slowly begun to realize that I wasn’t happy in the relationship.”

      “When was the wedding scheduled?”

      “A few weeks from today.” All of the lightness and joviality faded. A flash of anger passed over her face.

      “Well, I’m sorry. All jokes aside, I can only imagine how distressing that must be.”

      She smiled at him sweetly. “Thank you, Roarke.”

      There was something so enticing about hearing her utter his given name in that soft sweet voice. It made him imagine what it would be like to hear her say it again as he hovered over her.

      Roarke shut his eyes briefly and tried to scrub the sound and image from his mind.

      He was only in Houston for one more day, then he’d be off to Dallas again. Besides, the object of his infatuation was Ryder Currin’s daughter.

      Could he possibly make his life any more complicated?

      He’d lived his life in a comfortable realm that existed on the corner of sarcastic and serious. He didn’t have room in his life for gorgeous women who looked like Greek goddesses, tossed around smart-ass nicknames and randomly kissed strangers.

      Besides, Sterling seemed to honestly respect his accomplishment in getting him released on house arrest. And how hard he was working to clear his name. Getting involved with his arch enemy’s daughter certainly wouldn’t score him any brownie points with the old man.

      “Well, it was nice to officially meet you, Annabel.” He set his half-finished drink on the bar and wiped a hand on his tuxedo pant leg. “But I’d better check in with Angela and make sure everything is good.”

      “Of course.” Annabel’s tongue glided over her full lower lip. She raked her manicured fingernails through the loosened, wavy ends of her hair, tugging it over one shoulder. “Save me a dance later?”

      “I look forward to it.” Roarke turned and made his way back to the main ballroom and the table where

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