Secrets Of The Night. Katherine Garbera

Secrets Of The Night - Katherine Garbera


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I have repeatedly asked you not to do,” he said. Whenever she mentioned him on the internet or on her show he got slammed with emails through the company website, asking if he was on Twitter or Facebook.

      “Sorry, bro, but if you ignore me you must face the consequences.”

      “So what did you want?” he asked.

      “I’m having a dinner party tomorrow night and have an odd number of guests so I need you to come. It’s at eight so you’ll be done with work.”

      “Are you filming it?” he asked. One time she’d been doing her cooking show and he’d shown up unaware that the dinner was going to be taped. He had left without saying a word to her, but they’d had a huge fight over it later. Janey didn’t understand why he still had such an aversion to the press. In her mind what had happened with their dad was over years ago. But it was different for Conner.

      “No. I think we both remember what happened the last time I did that.”

      “Thanks, Jane. I’d love to come to dinner then. Eight?”

      “Yes,” she said. “Did you talk to the reporter?”

      “Only to get her to leave. She wanted to do a story on Dad and that old scandal,” he said, which wasn’t quite true, but he didn’t want Jane talking to Nichole. His sister could be stubborn once she had an idea about something.

      “Oh, that’s too bad. I thought she was doing a piece on the television show that Matchmakers, Inc. was part of.”

      “She is. But she also wanted to delve into the personal side of it. Stuff like why do I own a matchmaking firm if I’m determined to stay single.”

      “A question Mom and I have pondered many a time,” Jane said.

      “Um … you’re single, too. Would you like to delve into your reasoning on that?”

      “I haven’t met Mr. Right,” she said.

      “I don’t think you’re even looking,” Conner said. “I do want you to be happy.”

      “I am happy. And I suspect you are, too. We aren’t like other people who need a spouse to be fulfilled,” she said. “We learned a long time ago to depend on ourselves—and each other, of course.”

      “Of course,” he agreed. He hadn’t realized that Janey felt the same way he did. He’d tried his best to shield her from the worst of the fallout with their father. “I thought I protected you from most of the family drama that made me such a loner.”

      “You did. You have always been the best big brother a girl could ask for.”

      “The best … that’s not what you tweeted a few minutes ago.”

      She laughed as he’d hoped she would. It bothered him that his sister was as closed-off to interpersonal relationships as he was. He’d adjusted to living alone and not letting anyone get too close, but Janey was gregarious and always had a group of friends around her.

      “Love you,” she said.

      “Love you, too, brat. Is Mom coming to this soirée of yours?”

      “No, she has a board meeting for her charity. She said if you didn’t agree to come she’d call and put the screws to you.”

      “You two always team up, don’t you?”

      “If we didn’t, you’d stay shut away in your office like some sort of hermit and then, when we finally did see you, who knows what you’d look like.”

      “Now you’re just being silly,” he said. He liked that Jane had retained most of her upbeat personality. She’d always been a giggling little girl, but after their father left and the scandal broke there were times when Conner thought he’d never hear his sister’s laughter again. Luckily, over the years they’d moved on and slowly that specter of pain from their father had dulled.

      “Yes, I am. See you tomorrow night,” she said and hung up the phone.

      Conner spent the rest of the afternoon in meetings and pretending that he didn’t notice that Nichole Reynolds had tweeted about him right after Jane had. He knew that social media was the wave of the future, but personally didn’t care for it.

      Which was why he continued checking to see if Nichole tweeted anything else. He didn’t know why he was so obsessed with that woman. Sure, she could kiss his socks off and just the thought of her in his arms gave him a raging hard-on, but otherwise she was just like every other woman and reporter he’d ever met.

      He was kidding himself. He knew that she was different and he wanted to see her again. Except that he’d done everything in his power to make sure she didn’t come back.

      He knew that he’d said some callous things to her the last time they were together. A better man would call and apologize or send flowers or jewelry, but he couldn’t be that man … wouldn’t be that man. As Janey had said, life was easier when he only depended on himself, and he wasn’t about to risk that for Nichole Reynolds, no matter what her effect on him.

      Willow lived in Brooklyn in one of those brownstones that were going for millions of dollars back before the beginning of the recession. She had waited and watched the property she wanted until the market had gone soft and she’d been able to buy it. That was one thing about her friend that Nichole envied. Willow had patience. She would wait as long as it took to make something happen.

      Nichole knocked on Willow’s door just as another cab pulled up and Gail Little stepped out. Gail smiled and once again Nichole was struck by how happy her friend looked. The two women hugged and said hello. Willow opened the door with her cell phone to her ear. She gestured for them to come in.

      “So why did you call this emergency meeting?” Gail asked as they both entered Willow’s foyer and walked down the short hall into the kitchen.

      “Willow is keeping a secret about Jack Crown,” Nichole said, opening the cabinet to get out three wineglasses. Gail opened the bottle of chilled Chardonnay she’d brought and poured three glasses.

      “She is?”

      “I’m not,” Willow said, entering the room. “I knew him in high school.”

      “How come you never mentioned it before now?” Nichole asked.

      Willow sighed and took a long swallow of her wine. “Let’s sit down if you’re going to grill me. I ordered a pizza and it should be arriving in fifteen minutes.”

      “Good,” Gail said with a big smile. “Plenty of time for you to tell us all about your Jack.”

      “He’s not my Jack … I tutored him when he was a junior.”

      “What year were we in?” Nichole asked.

      “Freshman.”

      “That must have been humiliating for him,” Gail said.

      Willow flushed and looked down at her glass. “I have no idea. He needed help in English. That was all.”

      It didn’t take reporting skills for Nichole to know there was a lot more to the story than Willow was letting on.

      “Yeah, right,” Gail said.

      “Why didn’t you ever mention him to us?” Nichole asked.

      “Because he was just another kid I was tutoring. You guys didn’t want to hear about that.”

      “Was he cute back then?” Nichole asked. “He had to be. He has what scientists call the golden triangle. His face is perfectly symmetrical. He is beautiful,” Nichole said.

      “Don’t let him hear you say that. His head might explode,” Willow said.

      “That sounds like a lot more than just his old tutor talking. What happened between the two of you?” Gail asked.

      Willow finished


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