Page 35 of The Billionaire in Her Bed

“Sure.” Mallory shifted the bucket to her other arm. “Then maybe after we can…whoa.”

Brooke followed her sister’s gaze across the roof to Eli. He’d moved the ladder again and was a few rungs off the ground with his back to them. As he reached up to hang another panel, his shirt rode up, revealing a strip of golden skin above the waistband of his dangerously low-slung jeans.

Mallory let out a low whistle. “Please tell me that perfect ass belongs to your new neighbor.”

“Did you just say ass?” Her sister never swore. Like, ever. And that included words like hell and damn.

“Now you’re the one avoiding the question.”

“What’s wrong? Dr. McSnobby not enough for you?” They still hadn’t had that talk about Hunter. Brooke reminded herself to make time for her sister once the wedding was in the rearview mirror.

“He’s not that bad once you get to know him, honest.” Mallory tapped the toe of one running shoe. “And you still haven’t given me an answer.”

“Fine, Little Miss Nosy Pants.” Brooke hefted the bag of potting soil. “That’s Eli.”

“The guy you’re banging?” Mallory tapped a finger against her cheek. “He doesn’t look like a bean counter to me. More like a contractor. Or a Chippendales dancer.”

“Jesus, Mal,” Brooke hissed. She gave her sister the look of death and glanced over at Eli, who was thankfully still wrestling with the canopy. “Could you keep it down? And I never said I was banging him.”

“But you are, aren’t you?” Mallory asked with a smug smile. When did her sweet sister get so sassy? At least she’d managed to lower her voice a few decibels. “If you’re not, you sure as heck should be.”

Heck. Now that was more like the Mallory she knew. Except for the banging. Old Mallory would never refer to sex as banging. Old Mallory wouldn’t refer to sex at all. At least not without blushing.

Brooke studied her sister’s face. Her porcelain skin was flawless, as usual, not a hint of red or even a touch of pale pink in sight. “Who are you, and what did you do with my sister?”

“Consider this the new and improved Mallory Worthington.” Her sister spread her arms and spun around, the bucket still dangling from one hand. “Call me Mallory two-point-oh.”

“Okay, Mallory two-point-oh. Now that your curiosity has been satisfied, can we get rid of this stuff? This potting soil isn’t getting any lighter.”

“In a minute.” She put the bucket down and threaded her way through the planter boxes across the roof.

“Hold up.” Brooke dropped the potting soil and chased after her. “Where do you think you’re going? The shed’s the other way. And you forgot the bucket.”

“I didn’t forget it. I left it. I want to meet this man of yours.”

“He’s not mine,” Brooke muttered.

“Right.” There was that smug smile again. “You’re just banging him.”

“Enough with the banging.”

“Fine. I’ll be on my best behavior. Like you were with Hunter.”

Crap.That didn’t bode well.

“Brooke.” Eli caught her eye as they approached and climbed down from the ladder. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m her sister.” Mallory stuck out her hand. “Mallory.”

Eli gave Brooke a sideways glance, not trying to hide his shock. They hadn’t talked much about families, his or hers. Her reasons were obvious. She didn’t want to unload that mountain of baggage on him. She figured he had his reasons, too. And unlike her snoopy sister, it wasn’t in her nature to pry.

“Eli.” He shook Mallory’s hand and gave her a smile that oozed confidence and charm. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Mallory might not have blushed before, but she did now. Bowled over by the sheer force of Eli’s magnetism, no doubt, like every other red-blooded female between the ages of eight and eighty. “I wish I could say I’ve heard all about you, but I’d be lying.”

He chuckled and released her hand. “Same here.”

“She’s notoriously closemouthed,” Mallory said, nodding in agreement. “When we were kids, she broke her wrist playing soccer and suffered in silence for three days before Carmen noticed her favoring it and brought her to the emergency room.”