Sleeping With Her Enemy(42)

Kat aimed another undisguised look of astonishment at Dax.

“Is Kat short for something?” Amy asked. “Katherine?”

“Nope, just Kat,” his sister answered.

“And what about Dax?” Amy turned to him. “I’ve always wondered what kind of name that was. It sounds like a Viking or something.”

“You’ll have to talk to my mother about that,” he said, wondering if she, like he, was remembering the time not so long ago when she’d insulted his name.

“I just made it up. Names with more than one syllable are a waste of breath,” she said, as if she was explaining something that should be obvious. “Inefficient.”

“She actually asked me if we could just number the kids instead of name them,” his father offered. Dax turned to his father, disbelieving. He’d never heard that before. “It’s true,” said his father, standing up and starting to clear the plates. “I’ll go get the cake.”

Amy laughed. “So Gloria is a big breach of the rules.” She turned to Kat. “If a feminist icon was the aim, you could have gone with Greer, maybe.”

“I like this one,” his mother said, turning to him and pounding the table. “You bring her to dinner next week, too.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude on family dinner,” Amy said.

“Well, if you were Dax’s girlfriend, you’d be family.”

“Mother,” Dax said, though he knew it was useless.

“Amy,” Kat said, coming to his rescue, which was a little surprising. He had half expected her to trot out the whole Allison story, and he didn’t need Amy knowing about that. “I hear you’re a real estate expert. I want to move out of this condo. I’m not in a huge hurry, but I want Gloria to have a yard by the time she can walk. Any advice?”

“Oh, for sure. Do you want to stay around here?”

“This is going to sound crazy—I’m probably just hormonal—but I think I’d like to move closer to my parents, who are in Scarborough.”

“What about Port union  ?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s a little neighborhood on the lake in the far eastern corner of Scarborough. It’s one of the last affordable pockets of houses in the city. If you want, I can take you on a little orientation tour once you get back on your feet.”

“Do you have your real estate license?” his father asked, having returned with one of his signature cakes—this one was lemon chiffon, Kat’s favorite.

“Nope. At my company, I oversee large development projects, so I know a lot about the economics of land and real estate. It’s different work than selling residential real estate. But lots of people ask me for advice on buying and selling houses, and I follow the Toronto residential market as a hobby. I have a friend who’s a Realtor, and I refer lots of people to her. Half the time I do all the legwork of looking for a place, so she gives my people breaks on commission. I can put you in touch when you’re ready, Kat.”

“She delivers babies, and she works real estate magic,” Kat said, waving her arms around theatrically. “And she’s also really, really pretty. She’s like the perfect person.”

At that moment, looking at Amy, who had managed to charm all the weirdos in his family in different ways, Dax could not disagree.

Which was a problem. A big, big problem. The last thing he needed was his family getting all attached to a girl who was most definitely not his girlfriend.





Chapter Ten

Dax managed to avoid Amy until Friday of the next week. When he walked into the kitchen at the office, she was bent over, rummaging through the refrigerator.

Of course she was. Because why would he just run into her doing something normal, like walking down the hall or waiting for the elevator?

No, Perfect Amy had to be aiming her Perfect Ass, encased in some kind of shiny, silklike deep purple fabric, at him. He squirmed, contemplating whether he should just flee like the coward he was.

But he was too late. When she emitted a huff of frustration and righted herself, it should have been a relief. But she turned, hands on hips, and she was wearing a purple minidress. And the red, red lips.

Which transformed from pursed to an enormous smile when she caught sight of him. “Hey! Long time, no see!”

“Problem?” he asked.

“Yes!” The pout returned. It was worse than the smile. “Someone stole my lunch! I brought it yesterday, but ended up on a last-minute business lunch, so I was going to eat it today.” She turned back to the still-open fridge, as if she could manifest the missing lunch. “And now it’s gone.”