Page 60 of The Billionaire in Her Bed

A soft, faraway look came into her sister’s eyes, and Brooke wondered what she was hinting at. It disappeared as quickly as it came. The moment passed, and Mallory continued. “But before you head for the metaphorical hills, you should at least give Eli a chance to tell his side of the story.”

“His side of the story?” Brooke almost choked on her Chex mix. “He lied. What more is there to know?”

“Didn’t you lie, too? Or did you tell him you’re Brooke Worthington of the hotel Worthingtons?”

Snagged.

“It’s not the same.” Brooke broke open the box of donuts, took one out and all but inhaled it. Two thumbs up for emotional eating.

“Isn’t it? At least a little bit?” Mallory didn’t wait for her to answer. “You owe him the chance to explain. You owe it to yourself.”

“How can you be so sure?” Brooke licked powdered sugar off her lip. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“I watched you two at the wedding. I haven’t seen you that happy and relaxed with a member of the opposite sex in, like, ever. And that guy is totally in love with you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you all night.”

Something stirred inside her. Something she didn’t want to acknowledge, much less name. She pushed it way down deep and reached for another donut. “You got all that from a few hours on a rooftop in questionable lighting?”

Mallory hopped off her stool and grabbed two Diet Cokes out of the refrigerator. “Sometimes you’ve just got to trust your instincts.”

She kept one of the sodas for herself and slid the other across the counter to Brooke. Then she sat back down, popped the tab, and drank.

Brooke followed suit, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her sweatshirt when she was done. “Yeah, well, my instincts suck. They let me fall in love with someone who’s a carbon copy of Dad.”

“Really? Aside from the fact that he’s one of the richest men in Manhattan, how is Eli remotely like Dad?”

“He’s…” Brooke stalled. How was Eli like her father? He was supportive, not selfish. Took an interest in her career, her friends. Fixed sinks and planned weddings without asking for or expecting anything in return. And although he was rich, he didn’t let his money define him.

Qualities as foreign to her father as making minimum wage.

Mallory cleared her throat. “I’m waiting.”

Since Brooke had no answer to her sister’s question, she asked one of her own. “How do I know it wasn’t all an act?”

“You don’t.” Mallory gave a rueful little lift of her shoulder. “Not for certain. That’s where those instincts come in. And yours aren’t anywhere near as bad as you think. You had Hunter pegged as a pretentious prick the minute you met him.”

Brooke’s jaw dropped, and a little piece of donut plopped onto her sweatshirt just above her left breast. “I never said…”

“You didn’t have to,” Mallory interrupted. “It was written all over your face. And you were right. We broke up.”

“Oh, Mal.” Brooke reached across the counter and covered Mallory’s hand with hers. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so preoccupied with my own drama, I didn’t realize you were hurting, too.”

“Probably because I’m not.” Mallory gave her sister’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Which should tell you something.”

“What?”

“The man I lost wasn’t worth keeping. But maybe—just maybe—yours is.”

Mallory’s cell phone chimed. She pulled it out of her purse, swiped the screen and scowled.

“What’s wrong?” Brooke asked.

Mallory tossed her phone back into her purse and stood. “The idiots at the fish market messed up our delivery again. I’ve got to go take care of this, or we’ll have to take the scallop special off the menu tonight.”

“Go. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine here with my processed food and carbonated syrup.” Brooke held up her soda can in mock toast.

“Okay. But promise me you’ll think about what we discussed.”

“I promise.” Not a hard one to make. Or to keep. Brooke couldn’t imagine she’d have space in her brain for much else.

Mallory came around the counter to give her sister a hug. “And one more thing.”

“Name it.”

Mallory scrunched up her nose and pulled away. “Take a shower.”