In His Wildest Dreams. Debbi Rawlins

be silly.” Emma gasped when her friend tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You finally bought them.”

      “What? Oh…” Brenda touched the diamond stud on her right ear. It had to be at least a carat. “I was still saving up for the suckers. Nick bought them for me. I found the jeweler’s box in my desk drawer after he left the other evening.”

      “Wow!”

      “I shouldn’t have mentioned I wanted them. He’s always doing things like that.”

      “Interesting.”

      “You look doubtful.” A sisterly defensiveness rose in Brenda’s eyes. “I told you he’s a nice guy.”

      “I’m sure he is,” Emma said lightly.

      “Do me a favor and don’t mention the earrings. He’s funny about that. He never gives a gift outright. He tucks it away somewhere for you to find, and then acts like he doesn’t know anything about it. It’s weird, almost like he’s embarrassed.”

      Emma smiled. She wouldn’t have guessed that about him. “That’s actually kind of sweet.”

      “Don’t be foolish and fall for him. I mean it, Em.” Brenda shook her head, her eyes concerned. “I love my brother but his idea of a serious commitment is staying the night.”

      “Fall for Nick?” Emma laughed. “I’d sooner eat chocolate-covered grasshoppers.”

      “THANKS FOR THE EARRINGS.”

      Nick finished drying the hood of his ‘55 Chevy before he turned around. “What earrings?”

      Brenda gave him an indulgent smile as she entered the garage and sidestepped the assortment of chrome polishes and car washes he’d left on the ground. “They’re exactly what I wanted.”

      He shrugged and shook out the rag. “They aren’t from me.”

      “Then I won’t bother to insure them. They’re probably fake.”

      He slid her a sidelong glance. “I begged Mom and Dad to get a puppy instead of a sister. But no, they had to hatch something they could put in frilly pink dresses.”

      “The luckiest day of your life was the day I was born, admit it.”

      “In your dreams.” Oh, hell. He glanced at his watch. He had to shower and shave soon, so he could meet the Doc by four-thirty. “What did you want, Pipsqueak?”

      “Nothing. I figured I’d stop by to see how things were going with you and Emma.”

      He discarded the rag and frowned, disappointed more than annoyed. “Doc told you.”

      “Huh?”

      “What do I care?” Shrugging it off, he picked up one of the polishes and studied the label.

      “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She snatched the can out of his hand. “Quit ignoring me.”

      “I’m not. I have to finish this up before my appointment with Doc this afternoon.”

      Brenda frowned. “Why are you seeing a—” The confusion lifted from her face. “You mean Emma.”

      He poured some of the grayish-blue liquid onto the torn piece of burgundy towel. “She’s not going to be happy with last night’s installment.”

      “Your dream?”

      He nodded and started on the hood. Man, this baby could still shine.

      “She didn’t tell me anything, you know.”

      Sliding her a glance, he kept polishing. “Wouldn’t matter if she did. I didn’t tell her anything I wouldn’t tell you.” He smiled at the thought. “Theoretically speaking, of course.”

      “Yeah, but the point is, she didn’t and wouldn’t discuss any session she had with you or anyone else. She’s not like that.”

      He gave her a challenging grin. “How is she?”

      “Ethical…professional…moral. What did you think of her?”

      He shrugged, and then put a little more elbow grease into the job. If he got the Chevy looking good enough, he’d pick Tiffany up in it tonight.

      “You have to have some sort of opinion.”

      “She’s okay.”

      “That’s it?”

      He snorted, and stopped polishing. “What do you want from me? You know damn well I’m being blackmailed into doing this. Do I have to like the woman, too?”

      “Don’t you?”

      “I said she was okay.”

      “Fine.” Brenda folded her arms across her chest in that sulky way he knew all too well. “Have you gone to see Mom lately?”

      Oh, brother. Now she was on the offensive. “Nope, and the subject is not open for discussion.”

      “Have you at least talked to her on the phone?”

      “Yeah, but I bet you already know that.”

      “Mom might have mentioned you phoned her last month.”

      He gave her an amused look and kept working.

      “Nick, you can’t blame her for wanting to see you married and settled down with children before she dies.”

      He stared at his sister in disbelief. “For God’s sake, she’s only fifty-two. I doubt she has one foot in the grave already.”

      “Yeah, but you know Mom.”

      “Yeah, I do. That’s why I’m staying clear until she either gets over this phase or starts picking on you instead.” He stopped, and used the back of his hand to wipe his forehead. “Why isn’t she bugging you to get married and have kids?”

      “Because I’m not the one turning thirty next year.”

      “Ah, that explains everything.” Shaking his head, he glanced skyward. The afternoon sun was fading. He had to get a move on. “Look, if you want to keep yapping, grab a rag and help.”

      “And ruin my manicure? I don’t think so.”

      “Too bad. If I don’t finish, I just may have to cancel my appointment with Doc.”

      “That is too bad.” Brenda turned to go, and over her shoulder added, “I hear Aspen is really nice in November.”

      “You’re a brat,” he called after her.

      “And proud of it. Don’t keep Emma waiting.”

      He watched her walk to her car, open the door and pause to waggle her fingers at him before getting in. After she’d driven away, he checked his watch again. No way was he going to finish in time for his date with Tiffany.

      What the hell…Tiffany was a Porsche kind of gal anyway.

      He finished the hood, threw the rag aside, and then stored all the cleaning supplies on the garage shelves he’d had the architect design when he had the house built last year.

      The English Tudor was too big for one person, but on the advice of his accountant, he’d gone ahead and had it designed and built, but customized to suit his needs. Which meant he basically lived in the family room and the third garage where he kept the Chevy.

      Unfortunately, his mother couldn’t see the financial reason for such a big house, that he needed a sizeable mortgage to reduce his taxable income. All she wanted to see was that he was finally ready to give her grandchildren.

      Like that would happen.

      At least not anytime soon. There were too many Tiffanys in the world…lovely, willing and able, and wanting nothing more from him than a good time