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Mia had lingered over Julian’s page for a minute or two, telling herself that she was only interested because she’d been booked for the Hard Candy cover shoot.
There had been a paparazzi shot of Julian doing the exiting-limo-with-hot-babe thing. One formal portrait of him wearing a serious expression and a suit and tie—probably lifted from his company’s annual report. But the photo that had captured her attention was a candid, taken at the seashore with dunes and a weather-beaten beach house in the distance. Julian was building a sand castle, looking all brown and sun-bleached, wearing nothing but deck shoes and cutoff jeans, one arm wrapped around a little girl with a sun hat pulled down to her jet-black button eyes. The display of his sand-sprinkled muscles had been impressive, but what was most attractive was the sweetness of his kinship with the child—a niece, according to the caption.
“Number Seventeen tries harder,” he said.
Mia laughed and shook her head. “Tempting, but no. I always go for the best.” Oh, her parents would choke if they could hear her! While both of them had always preached modesty, they’d also wanted her to make something of herself—or at least marry very well. She’d disappointed them on all counts.
“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind for next year, when the new list is released.” Julian sighed and rubbed his chin. “It’s a tough task, but I’ll take it on. Wining, dining, kissing and seducing my way up the list…”
If he was trying to make her jealous, he was succeeding.
Nonsense. She tossed her head. “Whatever. As long as it’s not with me.”
“Certainly not. I may never make it to the Number One slot you require. But a man’s got to try.”
She picked up the heavy toolbox, lugged it toward the door, then thought better and set it down. “Here,” she said, digging into her pocket for another tissue. She handed it to Julian. The crooked purple numbers had dried on his forehead. He didn’t seem to mind, and he carried them off with a certain slapdash style, but she was feeling petty.
“Reconsidering my offer?” Julian said, smirking at her like a cocky bastard as he scrubbed away the brand.
She snapped to. “Absolutely not.”
“Till next year, then,” he called after her as she wrapped her arms around the toolbox and hauled ass for the door. Show a guy like that one inch of vulnerability and he’d have her naked between the sheets before she could wrap her lips around a No, Thanks.
“Have fun,” Mia muttered as the heavy metal door clanged shut. She stopped, shuddered as if a train had just whizzed past, then hefted her materials and headed for the street, making a mental note to invest her spare change in a condom factory now that Julian Silk was on a mission to seduce. If his reputation was correct, he’d already cut a swath through Manhattan. She’d better put out a warning bulletin to the boroughs.
3
A WEEK LATER, with many schemes regarding his seduction of Mia Kerrigan conjured and abandoned, Julian was still trying to figure out his next move when his kid sister, Nikki, came into the office looking for a job. Serendipity, he thought. She might be useful, for a change.
Nikki was twenty-three, a recent college graduate, just returned from a grand tour of Europe—two months sunning in Ibiza, partying in London and wining and dining in Venice. When he’d asked about museums and landmarks, Nikki talked about power-boating with Guiseppe and lashing Simon at the Dungeon. Julian shuddered to think.
“Jules, luv, you’ve got to give me a job!” In full drama princess mode, Nikki threw herself horizontally onto the new leather sofa that had replaced his dad’s old leather one. She swung her feet onto the armrest, kicking away a pillow needlepointed by their mother, beloved by their father and sneered at by the designer who’d “done” the office when Julian moved in.
“Why?” he said, even though he already had an idea of how to combine their objectives. But Nikki had to think she’d persuaded him into giving her a real and valuable position in the company. She would treat a make-work job like the rest of her gifts—from the first edition Little Women left out in the rain to the Aston Martin she’d crumpled on the gatepost of their country house when she was applying lipstick in the rearview mirror while practicing her British accent.
“I can’t be a decorative but useless heiress forever. Maybe for another few years, but what happens then?” Nikki waved her arms, happily chattering away while Julian listened with one ear while paging through his stack of messages. “Nobody cared about Stella McCartney until she started designing for Chloé. Gloria Vanderbilt had her jeans, Paloma Picasso did perfume….” She paused, reflecting on her ancient predecessors. And he’d thought she knew nothing about history.
“Look at Sofia Coppola.” Nikki sighed. “I want to be my own person. I want respect. I mean, I didn’t go to all the trouble of hiring a look-alike ringer to take my college finals only to hang the degree on a wall and never use it. But does anyone—”
Julian interrupted more forcefully. “Nikki, tell me you didn’t.”
She grinned at him from her supine position, her long dark hair spread across the cushions. “You’re so easy to tease.”
He rolled his eyes upward to ask his dad for forbearance, much as he had when Nikki had first informed him that she was getting a journalism degree so they could work side by side. If Jim Silk was watching, he was getting one helluva kick out of Nikki’s latest idea. Nothing would have made him happier than to see his girls kept safe and close under Julian’s protection. He’d said so, in fact, over the beep of heart monitors and the sobs of his wife. How could Julian decline the chore?
But there were limits. “Nik, do you really think you can just march in here and be handed a plum job?”
“Why not?” Nikki wrinkled her nose. “That’s the point of being the boss’s sister. And a shareholder. Anyway, who died and made you king?” She giggled at her wit. “Besides Dad.”
“I worked my way up.” At his sister’s age, Julian had also hoped to choose his own career. Race-car driving, he remembered with some embarrassment. But he’d been the good son and had done as his father wished, starting as an intern at one of the Silk publications and moving from position to position until he knew all aspects of the business. When his father had died unexpectedly with the company in disarray, Julian had been well prepared to take over the reins.
Nikki sat up and flung back her hair. Uh-oh. She must be serious.
“I’m willing to do that,” she said. Quite earnestly. “I’m not asking to be the next Anna Wintour by tomorrow. I can start as a columnist.”
Julian humored her. “What kind of columnist?”
His sister scowled, distorting her pretty face. “I don’t want to tell you because I know you’ll say no.”
“Oh god. Not Leather & Chrome,” he said, citing the motorcycle magazine that was one of their smaller, more obscure publications. Nikki had gone through a rebellious biker-chick phase when she was seventeen. Their father’s death had curtailed it before she could crack her head open or fall in with a truly dangerous crowd.
“Julian! You know I’m a vegan now. Leather is cruel. Plus, it really stinks and it made me sweat like a pig.”
“Of course. I forgot.” If something was a trend, Nikki would follow something.
Aha. Trendy. Which of their magazines was hottest right now? That was where his sister would want to go.
The answer came instantly: Hard Candy. Home of bikini-clad bimbos and tips on oral sex.
Nikki would be employed there over his dead body.
“How about a fashion magazine?” he suggested. That way, she’d only do damage to her credit cards.
She shook her head. “High fashion is for rich old white women.”
He wanted to ask her how much she’d paid for her spike-heeled boots, distressed jeans and the skimpy snipped-silk top that showed off her navel ring, but he resisted. The last time he’d questioned Nikki’s look, she’d come home with a tattoo that had sent their mother into a week-long dither. If he let her loose at Hard Candy, she’d be researching sex toys in a week. Or worse—posing for a spread wearing edible undergarments.
“Watch out. I may start you at Puppy Monthly.” Julian turned over a page in the ad sales projections for next spring. “What ever happened to Frodo, anyway?” Frodo was the teacup Chihuahua Nikki had carried in a designer bag everywhere she went…for about a month.
“He’s Mom’s now. She took him with her to the Vineyard while I was vacationing and got attached.”
“So that’s who was yipping in the kitchen last time I visited. I thought the cook had gone off her Zoloft again.”
“Are you trying to distract me?”
“Usually that’s easy to do.”
“I know.” Nikki sighed. “But I’m serious this time. I want to do something with my life.”
“You could get married, like Lis.” At twenty-nine, Elisabeth Silk Reingold was the oldest sister. She and her husband, Sam, lived in the Nashua countryside and had two little kids who called him Uncle Julie and gave him kisses that smelled like peanut butter.
“I’m way too young to get married,” Nikki said, appalled at the thought. She studied her brother for a moment and apparently decided that he couldn’t be serious. Her lips twitched. “I’d rather be like Very. She knows how to have fun.”
Julian groaned. Very, short for Veronica, was the middle sister and his worst nightmare. She’d been in college and on track for a responsible life when their father’s passing had hit her like a locomotive. Soon after, Very had dropped out with a vow to live every moment to the fullest. Ever since, she’d been racing with a jet-set crowd of club kids. When in residence, she stayed out till dawn, partied like a maniac and slept till noon, only getting clean and sober to pay sporadic visits to their mother. Next to Very, Nikki was almost responsible.
Maybe giving her a job wasn’t a bad idea. She probably wouldn’t stick it out, but at least for the short term it’d be easier for him to keep an eye on her.
Nikki’s lashes flickered. “I was thinking I could write for…”
Not Hard Candy. Anything but. Julian seized on the idea he’d been toying with at the back of his mind ever since she’d barged into the office.
He held up a hand. “Wait. I have an assignment for you.”
“An assignment? One measly assignment?”
“You don’t start off as a columnist, Nik. That’s a prestigious position you have to work up to. Most of our writers broke into the field doing freelance assignments.”
“Oh.” Nikki brightened. She got up and approached his desk, exuding genuine interest. “What’s the assignment?”
Julian wondered if he was being smart. It could be disaster, bringing Nikki and Mia together. But setting his sister free to find her own story could lead to worse.
Plus, this way he’d have reason to see Mia again.
Not that his throbbing dick needed an excuse.
He shifted at the thought. “It’s a simple project, to start you off. If you do well, I’ll think about giving you a permanent position.” At the magazine of his choice. “I want you to do background research on an artist. We’re thinking of featuring her in a, uh, fashion layout, so I need you to—”
Nikki clapped her hands. “A feature article! Yippee!”
“Hold on. I didn’t say you’d be writing the article. The first step is gathering background information.”
“But why can’t I write the article?” Nikki climbed onto a desk chair on her knees. “No way am I doing the drudge work so some other writer can sashay in and slap their name on my story.”
“That’s how it’s done.” Sometimes, but not for a relatively minor piece like this one. Mia Kerrigan might get a three-paragraph blurb. The focus of the layout would be on her luscious works of art.
Nikki leaned forward and put her elbows on his desk. Her boots stuck up in the air behind her. “Please let me write the article.” She reached a hand across his desk. Batted her lashes. “Pretty please.”
He gave her hand a pat, feeling very fatherly except for his motivations. Those were, well, sort of sleazy. But Nikki was an easygoing kid. She’d laugh if she found out his motive was dating and mating Mia. So…why not get two birds with one stone?
“We’ll see,” he said, “if you’re responsible and thorough about gathering the preliminary research.”
Nikki popped up. “Fab!” She went and grabbed her bag—a slim leather clutch now that Frodo was ensconced at the beach house with their mom—and pulled out a wafer-thin PDA. She stood with poised stylus. “What’s the deal? Got a name and number?”
Julian turned on the phone and buzzed his executive assistant, Dustin Sheppard. “Shep, will you call Petra Lombardi over at…her office and get Mia Kerrigan’s number for Nikki?”
“For Nikki?” came the disembodied voice.
She made a face at the intercom, temporarily holstering the stylus.
“I’m sending her on assignment. She’ll be out in a minute.” Julian checked his schedule. “Send my next appointment in as soon as she leaves.”
“Yessir. Whatevah you say, sir.”
Julian disconnected. “Wiseass.”
“Who, me?” Nikki laughed. “Is there anything you can tell me about this artist? Like, what does she do, since it’s a fashion layout—paint fabric? What’s her name again?”
“Mia Kerrigan.” Instantly, Mia’s baby-doll face and full lips sprang to mind. They’d shared sweet candy kisses, but Julian figured Mia for being a tigress in bed. She had spark, verve, an electric energy. She had bite.
Nikki watched him through slitted eyes. “She must be a dog.”
“Not at all. What makes you say that?”
“Because you’d already have her number if she wasn’t.”
“You make me sound very superficial.”
“Oh, yes. I forgot. Females of any shape, form or species are fair game to the man who would be the World’s Greatest Lover. Is she married?”
“Not as far as I know.” Julian frowned. “And watch your mouth.”
Nikki strutted to the door. “Julian, luv, regardless of deathbed promises, you’re not my father.”
“But I am your older brother and I do hold the purse strings.” Their father had put Julian in control of the estate, though he had no authority over the trust funds that were released as each sibling reached age twenty-five. Very was going through hers like water.
“Give me some credit,” Nikki said. “For once, I’m trying to earn money instead of spend it.”
“And I’m proud of you.” Julian joined her at the door. He kissed her cheek, relieved that she hadn’t noticed how he’d avoided the question about Mia’s career. Nikki would find out about the body painting soon enough, but he wanted her to think the potential layout and article were for a fashion magazine, not Hard Candy. “I expect you’ll do a fine job.”
“Thanks.” Nikki hugged him. She’d always been an affectionate girl. Even when she’d sent a strippergram to a board meeting on his birthday, Julian couldn’t help forgiving her. He felt the same way about the rest of the aggravating Silk women. If he hadn’t cared so much for them, the burden of his father’s expectations might be too heavy to contemplate. As it was, Julian managed by telling himself that at least he never doubted that they loved him back, even if they were doing their best to turn him gray before his time.
THE NEXT DAY, Mia was sitting on the top rung of scaffolding in a Riverside Drive ballroom when Nikki Silk arrived. The Gormans’ butler—an honest-to-goodness butler even though he was dressed casually since the owners weren’t in residence—announced the visitor with a twinge of annoyance before bowing out, firmly shutting the double doors behind him. Mia made a mental note to thank the old guy for looking after her on his downtime, even if he was only guarding her from stealing the silver.
“Hello?” the visitor called.
Mia switched off the hip-hop music blasting from her portable disk player. “Give me a sec,” she bellowed, misjudging her volume. She nudged away the earphones. “I have to finish the gold-leafing while the sizing is tacky.”
“That’s all right. I can watch.”
Mia glanced down at the rookie journalist whose face was turned up toward the ceiling arches. Nikki Silk was young, pretty and dressed like a crackpot Daisy Mae in a flared denim miniskirt, short white leather jacket and ankle boots with teeter-totter heels.
“I guess you’re related to Julian?” Mia pounced her horsehair brush on the gold leaf she’d just applied. Small flakes drifted down onto Nikki’s hair and face.
“Cool,” she said, puffing at one of the snippets of gold. “I’m his sister.”
Aha. Interesting. “He sent you here?”
“Well, he gave me the assignment.”
“Is he serious?” When Nikki had called yesterday, Mia had felt suspicious enough of Julian’s motives to consider denying the interview request. But if the proposed article was legit, the opportunity was too good to pass up.
Nikki put her hands on narrow hips. “Is there something wrong with me?”
“Not you. I meant the article. Is he serious about the article?”
“He’d better be.” Nikki cocked a leg and crossed her arms. Her boot tapped the marble floor. “I’ll shave his eyebrows while he’s sleeping if he’s setting me up.”
Mia wasn’t reassured. “Setting you up? Is that something he does frequently?”
