Three Wishes_A Second Chance at Love Contemporary Romance Page 5

  After all, how often did a man come along who stimulated her both physically and mentally? Simple and sad, the answer until now was never.

  Andi suppressed a sigh. She didn't confide in her father. Ever. Even if they were close, why would she ask advice from a man who could barely navigate his own life without a pair of metaphorical training wheels? No, she would keep Noah where he belonged. As a nice memory and a small regret. Neither of which she would share with Sterling Anderson.

  "No men, new or old. My business takes all my time." A perfunctory answer, but true. "And before you tell me all work and no play makes Andi a dull girl, don't bother. Billie is way ahead of you."

  As Sterling's green eyes narrowed, Andi hid her smile. Her parents thought alike in so many ways. However, if she wanted to turn her father's opinion on a dime, all she had to do was mention Billie's take on the situation. Without fail, he jumped from their shared bandwagon to Andi's.

  "Billie is a lovely woman," Sterling conceded the obvious. "However, she doesn't understand ambition. Seems the trait skipped a generation on both sides of your old family tree. Luckily, a will to succeed is the only thing you inherited from your grandfathers. Bastards, both of them."

  Andi barely remembered Thomas Benedict. She knew he was gruff and unsmiling. He had little time for children, especially granddaughters. Would pride override prejudice if he could witness Andi and her sisters' accomplishments? Would he change his mind—and his will? Probably not.

  As for her paternal grandfather, he died long before Andi was born. Augustus Anderson cast a long shadow, even from the grave.

  "Would your father approve of me?"

  Sterling snorted.

  "The old curmudgeon didn't approve of anything except the almighty dollar. However, he was as contrary as they come. Chances are, you'd earn his grudging respect even if, in his lofty opinion, you have the wrong set of chromosomes."

  "You weren't close?"

  Sterling scoffed. "The old man tolerated me. I was weak, unmotivated. At least once a week he threatened to disinherit me unless I picked up my game."

  "Yet, he left you everything."

  "He died." The slight curve of Sterling's lips belied the sadness in his eyes. "If he lived long enough, he might have followed through. Can you imagine me a pauper?"

  "Or with a nine-to-five job?" Andi teased.

  "Please." Sterling made a sour face. "Not while I'm eating."

  "Want to know what I've learned?"

  "Please." Sterling inclined his head. "You were born smarter than I'll ever hope to be. Your wisdom is always welcome."

  "Parents are difficult creatures to understand."

  Sterling, brow raised, met Andi's gaze—and laughed.

  "You received the short end of the parental stick, didn't you, dear girl," he said in a moment of rare self-awareness. Then just as quickly, the moment passed. "Billie is a nightmare. Charming, but better taken from a distance, or after several double bourbons. Good thing you have me to balance the scales."

  In a way, he was right. When she thought of her sisters, Andi hit the paternal jackpot. Bryce's dad was harmless. But his obsessive devotion to Billie brought down his score. Calder's father had a cold streak that bordered on cruel. And Destry was the daughter of a wanted criminal. Heck, comparatively, Sterling was practically Father of the Year material.

  "You're a gem." Andi clinked her glass with Sterling's.

  Beaming, Sterling dug into his lemon-poached scallops. Amused, Andi took a bite of her perfectly prepared beef stroganoff. Most of the time, her father was a royal pain in her backside. Occasionally, like now, he was a delightful dinner companion. Since she never knew when his mood might turn, she relaxed and enjoyed.

  As they ate, they discussed nothing heavier than the cut of Sterling's suit and how much a good pair of handmade shoes costs these days. The easy banter lasted until dessert—a record in Andi's estimation. But for once, she didn't say something to set her father off. Nor did one of his random comments make her head want to explode. The disruption came from a different source altogether.

  "What an unexpected surprise. I didn't know you were in town."

  Andi watched as Sterling's mouth hardened, his lips forming a stiff, artificial smile. Slowly, he stood to shake the hand of an attractive man in a very expensive suit.

  "Hunter."

  With a half-smile, the man turned his attention to Andi. She had to admit, he was attractive in a slick kind of way. Close to her father's age, he carried a bit of a paunch on an otherwise trim frame. Near-black irises gazed at her, his expression pleasant. Yet, something she couldn't put her finger on made her wary.

  "Aren't you going to introduce me to your lovely companion?"

  Sterling hesitated, but good manners and the inbred reluctance to never make a scene had him acquiesce.

  "Andi, I'd like you to meet Ingo Hunter. Ingo, my daughter."

  "Ah." Hunter smiled, his teeth a startling white against the too-tan skin of his face. "The fashion designer. I've heard nothing but good things about you, young lady."

  Andi, never at a loss for words, couldn't think of anything to say beyond thank you.

  Ingo Hunter's bright smile didn't dim. Apparently, her lack of conversation was fine with him.

  "Sterling, my good man. You won't mind if I steal your daughter away for a dance?"

  The only way Andi could describe her father's expression was one of defeat.

  "How can I say no?" With a shrug, Sterling took his seat.

  "You can't," Hunter agreed.

  Andi's gaze traveled between the two men. First, she was annoyed by their attitude. They spoke to each other as if she weren't there. Hunter asked Sterling, not her, for a dance. Her father gave his consent. Unless she'd unknowingly time traveled to the Victorian era, she made her own decisions. Right now, she chose to dance if only to find out what the heck was going on.

  There was a subtext to the oh, so polite exchange. What was wrong, she didn't know. And Sterling didn't seem disposed to explain. He was so tense she feared his neck would pay the price for the next week.

  Curious, Andi stood, taking Ingo Hunter's arm. She thought for a moment her father might protest, but the flicker of fight she saw in his eyes didn't last long. Rather than ask what was wrong, she let Hunter lead her across the room to the small dance floor where she planned to get a few answers.

  "My father doesn't like you." Andi didn't want to distress Sterling. She had no such qualms about Ingo Hunter, a complete stranger.

  Smooth as silk, Hunter took Andi into his arms. Not too close, not too far away, his hand in the small of her back, he held her with the sureness of a man who knew his way around a foxtrot.

  "You misinterpreted the situation." Hunter's smile grew a fraction more unctuous as if the use of his Ultrabrite teeth and curved lips would somehow glide her toward his way of thinking. "Sterling and I are friends from way back."

  Andi was used to people who used generic terms to cover the facts. In Hunter's world, way back could mean anything from when they were children to last week.

  "When did you meet?"

  Her question seemed to surprise Hunter. He probably wasn't asked to fill in the details very often. If ever. But, Andi was a detail person—in business and where the people she cared about were concerned.

  "Several years ago in Japan, if I'm not mistaken. I was there on business, your father…?" Hunter let the sentence hang as if he wanted to spare Andi the truth.

  "Sterling doesn't work, he plays. Hardly a newsflash."

  "Of course not. As his daughter, you know him better than anyone."

  With a half smile, Andi kept the truth to herself; most of what she knew about her father could be found by anyone with a quick Google search. But, Sterling Anderson was the only father she had. She loved him the same way she loved Billie. In a generic, I'm supposed to, sort of way.

  However, one thing Andi had no doubt about. Her steadfast
loyalty. No one screwed with her family. Whatever Hunter's endgame, he wouldn't use her to get there.

  "You're very beautiful."

  Beautiful. Andi suppressed a sigh. Just once, she wished a man would find a more original line. Like Noah. He used the word interesting. Not a line, but the truth, she remembered. At least in his eyes.

  "The first genuine smile I've seen since we met." Hunter beamed, certain his flattery had cracked through her cool demeanor. "I knew you weren't the ice queen everyone claims."

  The smile he admired dimmed. He expected ice? She'd give him ice. Her voice practically dripped with the stuff.

  "What's your definition of everyone, Mr. Hunter?"

  Andi's cool words had the opposite effect of her purpose. Instead of discouraged, a light of increased interest entered Hunter's dark eyes.

  "I should use my words more judiciously. One or two people commented. Jealous, no doubt. And who can blame them? You, Andi, are a gem. A bright, shining diamond."

  "How many carats?" Andi asked, her tone and expression deadpan.

  Caught off guard, Hunter paused. Then, threw his head back with a burst of laughter.

  "Delightful. Gorgeous and a sense of humor. Trust me when I say, the combination is rare."

  For the love of Pete. The man was a walking, talking cliché.

  "I know many attractive women blessed with sharp wits." Andi met Hunter's gaze, his heated, hers annoyed. "Perhaps you need to get out more. Or find a different circle of friends."

  "Perhaps you can steer me in the right direction."

  Andi was tired and so not interested. All she wanted to do was go home, put her feet up, and veg out on the latest season of Outlander. She didn't give a flying leap what Ingo Hunter did as long he did it far away from her.

  "We wouldn't suit, Mr. Hunter."

  "You're wrong." His arm pulled her closer. The thin material of her silk sheath was little protection to her back from the brief, but deliberate caress of his hand. "Let me show you how great we can be together. Personally, and professionally."

  "Professionally?" Unwilling to make a scene, Andi wondered if the stupid song would ever end. "Are you a designer?"

  "I'm an investor. And an admirer."

  If she were a different woman, would Ingo Hunter's brand of charm sway her? Age aside, she couldn't find anything wrong with him. Not exactly. Yet, something bothered her. A gut feeling, she supposed.

  Andi might have ignored the niggling warning except for one important fact. She believed in her gut.

  "I don't want or need an investor, Mr. Hunter. One hundred percent of my company means I make one hundred percent of the decisions. Succeed or fail, the onus is on me, no one else."

  "Of course. I understand." Hunter didn't look pleased, but as eyes traveled across Andi's face, as he took in every feature, the spark of interest didn't fade from his gaze. "We'll put business aside—for now. Do you have a man in your life?"

  The subject of her love life seemed to be a popular subject suddenly. Within hours, three different men made inquiries. First, Noah. Then, her father. Now, Ingo Hunter. She welcomed Noah's interest, tolerated her father's. As for Hunter's? The only response she could think of was a resounding yuck.

  "Do you appreciate honesty, Mr. Hunter?"

  "Please, call me Ingo." His voice dipped to a low, intimate level. "Honesty, Andi, is nice. But often overrated. When you get older, you'll understand."

  "Honesty, in any relationship, Mr. Hunter, is essential. I'm sorry a man of your advanced age hasn't learned that lesson."

  Ingo Hunter had an inflated ego. However, he wasn't a fool. Andi's meaning wasn't lost on him—and he wasn't happy. When he spoke, the warmth in his tone had cooled considerably.

  "A sharp tongue won't win you many allies, Ms. Benedict."

  "I don't need many allies. Just the right kind."

  "Touché." Hunter inclined his head.

  On cue, the music ended. With a sigh of relief, Andi shook her head when Hunter would have escorted her back to the table.

  "Goodbye, Mr. Hunter."

  "Until we meet again, Ms. Benedict."

  Not if I can avoid you. Andi wound her way across the room. A smile plastered on her face, she nodded to acquaintances, careful not to let them delay her. Ingo Hunter wasn't the first man to make an unwanted advance. He was hardly the most aggressive. Yet, he unsettled her in a way she couldn't describe.

  Maybe the problem was hers. Maybe she overreacted to a man who was simply on the make and reached in her direction—the wrong direction, by several thousand miles. Or, maybe her instincts were right on target with a big, fat bullseye.

  Didn't matter either way. In the future, Andi planned to avoid Ingo Hunter like the plague. If he had other ideas, too bad. He took his shot and fell well short of the mark.

  End. Of. Story.

  Sterling, a worried furrow to his brow, stood as Andi approached.

  "Everything okay?" he slurred.

  Unsteady, he swayed, catching himself before he toppled over. Her gaze landed on an empty crystal snifter. Never a heavy drinker, her father could hold his alcohol nicely when in moderation. When he overindulged, his eyes glazed over, his balance became suspect, and finally, he passed out

  Blinking, Sterling held onto the table for dear life.

  "How many brandies did you drink while I was gone?"

  "One." Sterling dismissed her question with a wave of his free hand. "Or two. At the most, three."

  Andi's bet was on four. Something about Ingo Hunter set him off. Unfortunately, her father wasn't in any condition to tell her what, even if he wanted to.

  "I better get you to your hotel before you go down for the count." She motioned for the waiter to bring their check to which she added a sizable tip. "Would you help my father to the door?"

  The man nodded, his expression sympathetic. Andi wanted to tell him to keep his thoughts to himself. If the man hadn't served her father too many brandies in quick succession, she wouldn't need assistance.

  Sterling hiccupped loudly. Andi almost laughed when her father's breath blasted the waiter in the face. Potent, indeed, if the man's sour expression were any indication.

  Thanks to a quick text, their car waited for them by the curb. The waiter poured Sterling into the backseat, closing the door after Andi.

  "Sorry, dear girl."

  Andi watched her father swallow as his face turned a sickly shade of green. The combination of a rich meal, a half bottle of excellent wine, topped with too much brandy and the inevitable stops and starts of New York traffic had caught up with Sterling.

  "No need to apologize unless you throw up on me."

  "Don't worry." Slowly, Sterling breathed through his mouth. "I never get sick. One time in college, we made a pub crawl through and around Oxford. The warm beer flowed like water. Still, I didn't lose my…"

  Gagging, Sterling placed a hand over his mouth.

  "Open a window," he cried. "Now!"

  CHAPTER SIX

  ~~~~

  "I SHOVED DAD'S head out the window in the nick of time." Andi propped her feet on the coffee table. The paint was worn, one leg wobbled, and a crack ran down the middle. She didn't even notice. "One more second and the contents of his stomach would have ended up all over my new Manolos."

  "The dove-gray suede slingbacks?" Calder asked, her dark eyes wide with horror.

  "The very same."

  "I want to know what happened to the cars behind you," Bryce asked as she joined Andi on the faded sofa.

  "Splat, I imagine," Destry chuckled.

  Andi cringed. "I feel awful. But nobody crashed. Hopefully, most of the mess landed on the road."

  "Always something." In charge of today's refreshments, Calder handed each sister a cup of tea. She placed the tray of assorted cookies on the table. "If one of our fathers is involved, expect the unexpected."

  "First time I had to deal with vomit."

  "C
ount yourself lucky. Except for the smell, I'll take a puking father over a bleeding one any day."

  Destry meant her comment as a joke. She even laughed but was the only one.

  "Oh, come on," she chided. "Lighten up. Dad survived, and I learned how to cauterize a wound. A win/win all around."

  Rather than let herself get worked up over something from the past she couldn't fix or change, Andi let the moment pass. The four of them were together—a rarity these days. Their schedules, normally jam packed, coordinated to let them laze away a rainy Saturday afternoon.

  The room was theirs, commandeered when they were little as the place they could just be themselves without interference from adults or the outside world. Located on the floor used for storage and ignored by the staff except when Mrs. Finch organized a bi-yearly cleaning, Andi and her sisters would close the door and share their deepest secrets without fear anyone would overhear.

  "If these walls could talk."

  Bryce nudged Andi's knee.

  "You told us about your first kiss."

  "We shared info about a lot of firsts," Calder chuckled.

  Destry smiled, her dark eyes sparkling as she snuggled deep into her chair, jean-clad legs slung over one padded arm.

  "With all the sexy we've talked about, I'm surprised the walls didn't turn blush pink."

  "Why would the walls blush, you never did?" Bryce taunted.

  "Excuse me?" Destry scoffed. "You're the one who lost your virginity behind a hotdog cart."

  "The football team won the state championship. I was overcome with school spirit."

  "You were overcome with lust for the quarterback."

  "True." Bryce sighed with a fond smile. "What Josh lacked in technique, he made up for in enthusiasm and stamina."

  Eyes closed, Andi listened to the familiar banter. The words didn't matter half as much as the company.

  "Hey, Andi. You napping?" Destry called out. "Or thinking about your first time?"

  Andi looked around the room. Her gaze fell on Destry, then Calder, then Bryce, and felt a wave of contentment. She loved their house. But they could be anywhere. As long as they were together, they were home.