SEAL the Deal(19)

A smile curved his lips as he took the sweetener from her and poured it into her cup. Stirring for her, he paused thoughtfully. “There has to be some way to find people who seriously want to sell. Maybe advertising or networking?”

Lacey’s eyes widened, realizing they were treading into dangerous territory. “What I need—” she began, quick to change the subject, “—is to be more like my sister.”

“Your sister?”

Lacey nodded. “She’s a huge success. Started out in financial planning like our dad, and now she’s on all these finance shows on TV.”

“Really?”

“She’d never put up with clients walking all over her like I do. The minute she figured out someone wasn’t serious, she’d literally dump them on the curb and move on. She was on the cover of BusinessWeek last month, you know.” She couldn’t help being a bit boastful about her sister. Lacey was proof that sisterly pride could blend seamlessly with envy.

Mick studied Lacey for a moment. “Huh. What’s her name?”

“Vi Owens.”

The recognition in his eyes was obvious. Lacey had seen it so many times before. Right now, he was picturing Vi with her perfect hair, doe-like eyes, and full lips. It was an injustice that someone so successful could be drop-dead gorgeous, too.

Mick quickly glanced down at his water glass and took a sip.

Lacey grinned. “You know her. I can tell.”

Their eyes met and Mick tried to sound casual. “Yeah, I might recognize the name. I watch CNBC sometimes.”

Lacey warmed inside, realizing that Mick was trying to look unimpressed by Vi to protect her feelings. It was adorable. “It’s really fine. I’m proud of her.”

“I can’t believe she’s your sister. You look nothing alike.”

“Hey, that’s not a nice thing to say since she’s Wall Street’s equivalent to Angelina Jolie.”

“You’re both beautiful, just in different ways.” With a fleeting look downward, he added, “And you have better legs.”

“Thanks.” Lacey blushed. “Vi was adopted. That’s why we look so different. But what’s ironic is that she’s so much more like my parents than I am. They’re so driven. Very successful. Just like Vi.”

“And you’re not driven?”

“Not like Vi always has been. She was a Wall Street profit monger before she even knew there was a Wall Street. I mean—” she paused, seeing an example was necessary, “—she used to sell her Halloween candy piece-by-piece for profit to kids in school.”

Mick choked back a laugh. “She sold her Halloween candy? Lacey, that’s not driven. That’s insane.”

“She did it every year till we were too old to trick-or-treat. And a million things like it. The topic of her sixth grade term paper was compounding interest. In high school she started an investing club.” She looked into the distance thoughtfully. “Even back then, Mom and Dad would boast about her to everyone. One time I actually overheard one of their friends say, ‘Are you sure Vi’s the adopted one?’”

Mick winced. “How old were you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Eight. Maybe nine.”

“Hell of a thing to hear at that age.”

Lacey’s lips pursed together, strangely tempted to confess how much it really had hurt her. That comment. All the comments she heard as she was growing up.

She shook her head. “So anyway, that’s why I’m focusing on my career until I have a few good listings go to settlement. I’ve actually got my first closing next week. It’s not much, but I also have a waterfront that I just put on the market.”

Taking a sip of her coffee, her eyes met his again. She didn’t want to like him. Didn’t want to think of him as any more than a perfect face topping a just-as-perfect body. But she found herself opening up, easing into the conversation as naturally as she had leaned in toward him that day in the funeral home parking lot. As though some inexplicable magnetic force would draw her toward him even if she couldn’t see his mouthwatering presence. Even if the lights were out.

The lights out. Now, there was a thought.

Clearing her voice awkwardly, she hoped he couldn’t see the steam she felt rising from her body. She glanced out the window. “I have this crazy fantasy about sitting down at the dinner table at Thanksgiving at my parents’ house and announcing my first waterfront sale. I’m sure they’ve always wondered if they brought the wrong baby home from the hospital.” She laughed, reaching for more cream. “I guess that sounds lame—to be thirty and still trying to impress my parents.”