Taste Me. Carrie Alexander
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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