his family’s gem company into the largest socially and environmentally responsible diamond company in the business.
“It’s going great,” Nic said dismissively. “I just like to be at all the meetings to hear the ideas, see what’s going around. Get a sense of the zeitgeist, I guess you could say.”
“And they call me the control freak in the family?”
“Because you are. While I am merely conscientious.” Nic crumpled up his empty soda can and shot it toward the recycle bin in the back corner of Marc’s office. “Yeah, baby, nothing but net.”
Marc bit his tongue to keep from telling Nic that there was no net. God forbid he get another lecture on not being the “fun” brother.
Nic made his way toward the exit, then stopped at the doorway and turned back to Marc.
“Seriously, bro. Fate’s given you another chance with Isa. You should take it.”
“I don’t believe in fate. And I don’t want another chance with her.”
“You sure about that?”
“Positive.” After everything that had gone down between them? The last thing he wanted was to give Isa another shot at screwing up his business...or his heart.
Did he want to sleep with her again? Hell, yeah. What man wouldn’t? She was beautiful when she was aroused. Not to mention sexy as hell—especially when she screamed his name while she came. Being with her had been the best sex he’d ever had.
Then again, she’d always been more the type to make love than have sex. He’d loved that about her when they’d been together. Now, however, it was nothing but a pain in his ass—not to mention other, more notable parts of his anatomy. He didn’t do the whole tenderness thing anymore.
“Well, then, forget about her,” Nic told him practically. “The past is dead. You’ve both moved on. Keep it that way.”
“I intend to.”
And yet, Marc couldn’t help thinking about Isa—and about her date to the party that night. Gideon. Just the name set his teeth on edge. What kind of name was Gideon, anyway? Who the hell was he? And what the hell did he want with Isa?
An image of her standing in front of her classroom flashed through Marc’s mind. Her eyes alight with the thrill of talking about her favorite subject, her skin flushed and glowing. Her miles of red hair locked down in that ridiculous braid, her gorgeous body hidden, and yet revealed, by the tailored pants and turtleneck sweater she’d been wearing.
When he’d known her, she’d been all warm, sweet passion—for life, for gems, for him. Now she was a contradiction, a bunch of stopping-and-going that, combined, made for an even more intriguing woman. One that he couldn’t help wanting despite his anger, and her betrayal.
No, Isa hadn’t been eager to renew their acquaintance that afternoon. But he’d seen the way she looked at him, the way she swayed toward him when he touched her. Maybe getting her into bed again wouldn’t be nearly as challenging as it once had been. The thought made him smile. Because once he got her there, he would take her—over and over and over again. Every way a man could take a woman.
He’d get her out of his system once and then, finally, he’d be able to put her—and all their unfinished business—behind him once and for all.
He was there. Marc. Though she hadn’t run into him yet, Isa had felt him watching her from the moment she and Gideon had walked in the door of the faculty mixer. It had always been that way with them—she couldn’t help but sense Marc whenever he was anywhere close to her.
“Can I get you a drink?” Gideon asked, his mouth inches from her ear. She knew he did it because it was hard to hear in the gallery—overlaying the soft music was the sound of a hundred voices, all vying to be heard—but still, feeling his warm breath so close to her cheek and neck unnerved her. Made her feel a little uncomfortable.
Which was stupid. Gideon was her friend and occasional movie/mixer date. It had been that way since they’d met three years before and never once had he given any indication that he wanted more. They were buddies, pals, each other’s port in a storm. So why was she suddenly feeling so awkward around him?
A shiver ran down her spine, and with it came the answer to her question. Because Marc was there, watching her. And though she hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of him, she knew he wouldn’t like the fact that Gideon was so close to her, his face next to hers, his hand resting softly at the center of her back.
As soon as the thought came, she beat it down. She and Marc had been over for six long years. He probably couldn’t care less that she was here with Gideon—any more than she cared who he was with. Any feeling she had otherwise was probably just a leftover from when they had been together. Back then, Marc had been extremely possessive of her. But then, she’d felt the same way about him.
“Isabel?” Gideon’s smooth voice dropped an octave as concern clouded his bright green eyes. “Are you all right? You’ve seemed off ever since I picked you up.”
He was right. She had been off—and not just for the past half hour. She’d been feeling strange ever since her encounter with Marc in the hallway earlier that day. And now, knowing that he was here made her feel a million times more off-kilter.
To make up for it, she flashed Gideon a wide, warm smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been caught up in my thoughts. But I’ll put them away for now, I promise.”
He grinned back at her. “Careful with that smile, woman. It’s a lethal weapon.” His own grin faded. “You know, if you need anything you can count on me, right?”
“Of course. But I’m fine. I swear.” She leaned into him, gave him a brief kiss on his cheek. “Though I am thirsty.”
“Your usual?” he asked, steering her toward a group of colleagues that they were both friendly with.
“That would be perfect.”
After depositing her among their friends, Gideon took off toward the bar. Isa tried to relax, to enjoy the ebb and flow of the quick-witted conversation she was usually right in the middle of. But she couldn’t. Not when it felt as if Marc’s eyes were boring holes right between her shoulder blades.
“So, how was the ballet you went to last week?” asked Maribel, one of the other professors at the GIA. “I’m so sad I had to miss it.”
“Yes, well, I think an appointment with your obstetrician trumps an afternoon at the theater,” Isa told her. “But the ballet was great. It was student written and performed, but you would have never known it. The San Diego Ballet Academy has a really good program.”
“Well the next time one of those afternoons of student work comes along, I want in. Even if it means I have to get a babysitter.” Mirabel softly rubbed her swollen tummy.
“How is the baby? And how are you feeling?”
“The baby’s fine and I feel gigantic. I can’t believe I have two more months of this to go.”
“Hopefully
