“Taryn is so beautiful,” she said as they walked into the store. “She’s going to make a lovely bride.”

“I’m sure she is.”

He led her to a small sofa facing a platform with several mirrors and got her seated. This was the viewing area, he would guess. Not that he’d ever been in a store like this before. He took in the fussy decorations, the feminine colors, the dresses and veils and other girlie stuff and told himself that, with luck, he would never have to be in one again.

Taryn stepped out of a dressing room. She wore a robe and had her hair up.

“You’re here. Good. I need advice. I’ve narrowed my choices down to two.” Taryn crossed to him, grabbed the glass from his hand and drained it. “I’m not cut out for this kind of crap.” Her blue-violet eyes darkened with what he would guess was a lot of doubt, accompanied by a hint of fear. “Jack, is this insane?”

He took back the empty glass and kissed her cheek. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride, Taryn. Angel won’t know what hit him.”

“You haven’t seen me in either of the dresses.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

She sighed. “Thank you.” She put her free hand on his shoulder and pushed him onto the sofa. “Stay here. I’ll be out in a second.”

He sat next to Larissa, who poured him more champagne. He had a feeling this wasn’t the first bottle of the morning.

“You ladies have made this into a party,” he said.

Larissa giggled. “I know. At first it was kind of boring, but after a while, I got into it. Maybe I should have gone shopping with my sisters when they were buying their dresses.”

“I doubt there was champagne involved,” he pointed out. “That would have been a Taryn touch.”

“You’re right.”

She set her glass on the small side table, leaned against him and sighed. “You’re a good friend to help her. She’s really freaked about finding the right dress.”

“Being drunk will ease her pain.”

Larissa looked up at him. “I think I might have had the most champagne.”

Her blue eyes seemed to draw him closer. Despite the public setting and Kenny’s recent warning, Jack felt himself start to lower his head. Because kissing Larissa would put everything else in perspective.

Her chin rose slightly, as if she were easing into position. Yeah, he thought, his mouth a whisper from hers. This was what they both—

“Percy has a black eye.”

He knew he’d been the one to speak the words, but for the life of him he couldn’t say why. Unexpected self-preservation?

Larissa scrambled to the other side of the small sofa and stared at him. “What?”

“It happened during the basketball game this morning.”

“I’m going to kill Consuelo.”

He raised his eyebrows.

She shrugged. “Okay, maybe not kill. But I’m going to talk to her. It’s one thing when it’s you guys, but Percy is a kid. She should be more careful around him.”

He reached past her for her champagne and handed it to her. “Drink up. You’ll feel better.”

“How’s Percy?”

“Proud as hell.”

Isabel stepped out of the dressing room and walked to the platform. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention, please... Taryn’s first choice is a couture gown. It’s a one-of-a-kind...”

Isabel kept talking, but Jack wasn’t listening. Taryn had stepped out of the dressing room.

He didn’t know much about wedding gowns. They were white and long and fussy. This one was all that, but somehow Taryn pulled it off. The top part was fitted and left her shoulders and arms bare. The skirt was full, falling in layers of some kind of frothy fabric. When she moved, the skirt swayed like a bell.

He remembered the first time he’d met her, nearly a decade before. She’d been packing up sandwiches left over from a meeting. Her determination, not to mention the collection of wrinkled plastic bags, had told him this was going to be her main meal of the day.

When they’d seen each other, he was sure he’d looked surprised. He knew she’d looked guilty, although she’d tried to pretend she wasn’t hungry. At that time, he’d dated enough models and actresses to recognize good quality clothes when he saw them. Taryn had been dressed in a suit a couple sizes too big. Her shoes had been worn and she was using a tattered backpack for a handbag.

But she’d been pretty and she’d faced him defiantly. He’d admired her spirit and had asked her out to dinner.

One thing had led to another and they’d ended up at his place. He’d quickly discovered she was living out of her car while saving enough for a down payment on her own apartment. By the end of the week, she’d moved in with him.

It hadn’t been love, he thought as she moved to the platform and stepped up in front of the mirrors. He’d liked her, had enjoyed being with her. Helping her out had made him feel as if he was doing something useful with his day. Lack of purpose was a chronic problem in the off-season.

A couple of months later, she’d turned up pregnant. He remembered Taryn’s tears when she’d told him. Not tears of happiness or even regret. Instead, she’d been frustrated—mostly with herself for, as she’d put it, being so damned stupid.

“What do you think?” she now asked, her voice anxious.

He motioned for her to turn in a circle.

She did as he requested. The skirt moved with her, swaying like a bell. “You’re beautiful,” he told her honestly. “And the dress is good, too.”

Taryn grinned. “Okay. Let me get into the other one and we’ll decide.”

Isabel helped her down from the platform and together they went into the dressing room.

Jack thought back to Taryn’s first wedding, to him. They’d flown to Las Vegas the Friday after she’d discovered she was pregnant and had been married in the east chapel at the Bellagio hotel. They’d spent the weekend in a suite before flying home early Monday morning.

It hadn’t been love for either of them. He’d been fine with that. Love wasn’t in the cards for him. When you loved someone, they left and Jack had been left enough for three lifetimes. Maybe not in numbers but in how it had all played out. He wasn’t risking that again.

With Taryn, he’d felt safe. They got along. They were friends who had sex. That had been plenty. The thought of a kid had terrified him at first. What if his child was like Lucas? But over the next few weeks, he’d told himself he would get through it, whatever happened.

Then Taryn had lost the baby. She’d started divorce proceedings the next day. Jack had wanted to tell her she didn’t have to. He didn’t mind being married to her, but she was determined. They’d stayed friends and had started Score together.

Looking back, he knew he had the best of all worlds. People he could care about, who cared about him. There weren’t the highs, but there also weren’t any risks.

“I’m feeling guilty,” Larissa said, pulling him back to the present.

“Why?”

“Do you know how expensive these dresses are? Do you know how many people could be helped with that money?”

He took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers. “Taryn will not be moved by that argument.”

“I know. But still.”

He kissed her knuckles. “Pick a cause and we’ll save something.”

She looked at him. “But it’s always with your money. What do I give back?”

“Your heart and that’s enough.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Because she was the most giving person he’d ever known and he liked how she dragged him along. Without wanting to, he remembered the last time he’d offered all he had. He’d been nine.

It had been late. The hospital was as quiet as it could get. Both his parents were asleep and he’d been wandering the pediatric wing alone. He’d caught sight of his brother’s cardiologist and had hurried over to speak to him. Because he’d finally figured out how to fix his brother.

“Dr. Madison.”

The tall, weary man had smiled at him. “Jack. Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I found a donor for Lucas. A heart donor. He’s a good match, I’m sure of it.” Jack knew all about transplants and matches. There had been talk of little else in his world for years.

Dr. Madison had shaken his head. “There’s no donor, Jack.”

“Yes, there is. Me.” Jack remembered staring up at the doctor. “We’re identical twins, so I’m the perfect match. Take my heart and make Lucas better.”

Dr. Madison had smiled sadly. “We can’t do that, Jack.”

“But I want you to. Take my heart. Make Lucas better so he can live.”

“It doesn’t work that way, son.”

The doctor had hugged him tight, then taken him back to where his parents slept in cots by Lucas’s hospital bed. No mention had been made of Jack’s offer. In the end, Lucas got a heart from someone else. He’d done well at first, and then he hadn’t.

Larissa leaned against him again. He put his arm around her. She knew that he’d lost a brother when a transplanted organ had failed. Nearly everyone knew that. But no one knew what it was like, day after day. To be the twin who hadn’t gotten sick. To be the one who survived.

Six months after Lucas’s death, his parents had left for a medical mission in Africa. There were children there who needed saving. They told Jack he would be fine on his own. He had his football scholarship and his strong, steady heart.

He remembered the shock that they would abandon him. Because somewhere in his head, he’d assumed that when Lucas was gone, they would still be a family. Only he’d been wrong.

He’d said all the right things—that of course he would be fine. And they’d believed him. At the time he hadn’t known why, but over the years he’d figured it out. They’d believed him because it made their leaving easier. They could tell themselves he was okay and go without having to look back.

He understood what they’d done. And why. He was Lucas’s identical twin. To look at him was to see what they had lost. Years of hoping and suffering and believing had taken their toll. The transplant had only bought a little time. It hadn’t been the lifesaving operation it was supposed to be. Being with Jack had reminded them of everything bad. Leaving had been so much easier than staying.

They’d flown away and they’d never come back. He’d turned eighteen that summer with no family around to celebrate the day. He told himself it was because they knew he was completely capable of being on his own, even as he understood the truth was far less pretty. His parents hadn’t cared enough about him. They’d lost Lucas and had abandoned him.

What he would guess they had never thought about was that he, too, had lost Lucas. And a few months later, he’d also lost his parents. Risking caring about anyone had become impossible. He knew the price of getting involved and he was never going to let that happen again.

He had the fame and the money to take on causes. And he did. From a distance. Larissa was the heart of their odd philanthropic partnership and he was the means. He believed it was a whole lot safer that way. For everyone, but mostly for him.

CHAPTER NINE

LARISSA SET OUT place mats and napkins. It was after five and dinner would be delivered within the half hour. She already had the wine open and breathing. It was a Washington State Cabernet—a favorite of everyone. Soft music played in the background.

Outside the conference rooms she could hear the other employees calling out as they left. Then it would be the five of them for dinner. The four partners and her.

She smiled as she continued to set the table. It had been far too long since they had a “family” dinner at work. Lately everyone was so busy with their personal lives. Taryn was rushing home to be with Angel. Sam was rushing home to be with Dellina. Kenny—well, Larissa wasn’t sure where he rushed off to, but he was gone a lot. That left her and Jack, which was great, but every now and then she wanted the whole band back together.

Kenny strolled into the conference room. He’d taken off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. The cuffs were already rolled up. He looked happy and relaxed, until he heard the music.

“Come on,” he said, his tone complaining. “How about something good for a change?”

“These are all songs from this century,” she pointed out.

“Not a great time for music.”

“Do you want to know how many albums Taylor Swift has sold?”

He winced. “No, and I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Not every great song is from the 1960s.”

“Want to bet?”

She laughed. Kenny was so predictable with his crazy love of oldies. “You weren’t even born then.”

“That doesn’t mean the music wasn’t great.”

She opened the cabinet containing the dishes and glassware. Kenny joined her and reached for plates.

“Are your hands clean?” she asked, her voice teasing.

“Of course. You think I’d offer to help if they weren’t?”

“You might.”

“Not my style.”

He set out the plates while she followed with the glasses. Kenny walked to the flatware drawer, but instead of opening it, he faced her.

“You doing okay?” he asked.

“Sure. Why?”

“Just checking.”

“On me?”

He nodded.