His Convenient New York Bride. Andrea Bolter

creamy skin, this time her neck.

      Buttons undone, she removed her coat and hung it on the stand by the door. She wore a terrific pink dress, with a belt of the same fabric that hugged her lavish curves. Mimi was the best dresser he knew and, being in the fashion business, that was saying something.

      “Aaron?” she called out before turning around to find her brother and Jin sitting on the couch in the very same room. “Oh. Hey, bro.”

      “Sis.”

      “Hey, Jin, I didn’t know you were here. Have you guys eaten? I’m starved.”

      “How did the interview go?” Aaron asked her.

      “Lousy. Just like yesterday’s.”

      Mimi was a junior fashion designer. Jin had always felt a little bit of personal pride that she had gone into the business herself, having spent many teenage years around LilyZ and learning about the industry. Aaron had chosen the world of stocks and bonds but with Mimi’s innate fashion sense, it was meant to be.

      It irked Jin that she was having employment problems after she’d quit her job because working with her ex-boyfriend was unbearable. All she kept hearing was no, and she’d been forced to move in with her brother to cut expenses.

      Aaron was stable but Jin and Mimi were both going through an awful time, made worse by the fact that Jin had recently found out that the last affair Helene had had while they were married had been with LilyZ’s lead designer. Who he’d promptly fired.

      It was piled up.

      Mimi needed a job.

      He had to find a new designer for LilyZ. And now, apparently, a wife.

      The events for New York Fashion Week Spring were starting up and LilyZ was not presenting anything because, before he’d died, Wei had blocked Jin from finishing the collection on time. Jin would now need to soothe the ruffled feathers of retailers who counted on his inventory. He had to make excuses. Pretend like everything was under control.

      Jin’s headache tightened. What an inconceivable mess!

      “Order some food in,” Aaron told his sister when she reemerged from his bedroom. Having taken off the pink dress she’d designed and sewn herself, Mimi had slipped on comfy black leggings, thick white socks and a red pullover.

      “That could be considered sexist, you know,” Mimi teased him, “making the woman take care of the meal.”

      “When said woman is living in her brother’s apartment for free it could be called singing for your supper.”

      “All right, you’ve got me there.”

      She glanced over to Jin on the couch, who had changed positions while she was in the bedroom. No longer with his feet up on the coffee table, he sat in his black slacks with one long leg crossed ankle to knee in a posture Mimi found so decidedly masculine it gave her a flutter.

      What was more, it occurred to her that Jin was sitting where she slept, as Aaron’s sofa opened to become the convertible bed she’d been unfolding every night. Jin had been over and sat on the sofa before, but for some reason the thought that it was her bed hadn’t dawned on her. She took a mental snapshot and filed it away in her brain. And then moved on, or tried to, from that picture.

      “Jin, are you staying for dinner?”

      “I want ramen. I need a huge steaming bowl of noodles.”

      “Sounds good to me,” Aaron voted in. “From that place.”

      “Yeah,” Jin agreed, “get the kind we liked that one time.”

      “Okay.” Mimi knew exactly what they meant and placed the order online.

      Afterward, Jin explained to her about the stipulation in his father’s will.

      “Does your mom know?” Mimi asked. “I talked to her on the phone yesterday and she didn’t say anything.” The Zhangs and the Stewarts had a long history together and she knew Jin loved it that Mimi was close to his mom.

      “No,” Jin stated firmly. “As his ex-wife she wasn’t included in the meeting with the attorney. I don’t want her to ever find out about it.”

      “What is it that happens if you don’t get married? Do either of you want more coffee?”

      Aaron shook his head no but Jin thrust out his large, square hand and Mimi moved toward him to grab the mug he held. While doing so, her fingertips brushed against his and she registered the signature heat that always emanated from his hands.

      It was as if fiery little sparks that only she could see ignited every time his hands made contact with her skin. Which, during exchanges like this, or during a hug goodbye, or a hand up an unsteady surface, had happened about a million times in the thirteen years she’d known Jin.

      Jin’s sparks were Mimi’s deepest secret.

      As she went about making more coffee, Jin explained about the will.

      Mimi looked from the coffeepot to the blank wall above it.

      “It’s so unjust that your father is still in control,” Aaron piped in. “Even though you’ve been effectively helming the business for years.”

      Mimi kept her eyes focused on the wall. Aaron was right. Jin had completely taken over everything regarding the clothing label as Wei’s drinking and carousing got worse. It infuriated Mimi to hear that Wei had invented this disruptive will instead of simply bequeathing the company to Jin as was his due.

      And Jin marrying again? The mere thought of that was upsetting.

      “You didn’t know anything about the finances?” Aaron asked.

      “I didn’t have the information on how bad it was. We all know the last two collections didn’t fly. My father wasn’t on top of trends or fabrics or colors or much of anything, and still wouldn’t relinquish any final decisions to me. Even when he was only attending meetings via telecom he’d always shoot down my ideas.”

      “You were captaining a sinking ship,” Mimi said.

      “What did I go to business school for if he wouldn’t let me implement changes?”

      “You wanted to grow and modernize.” Mimi acknowledged the thoughts he’d shared with her many times before. She knew he wanted to go from retailing in twenty stores worldwide up to fifty. “But you were too busy mopping up his messes.”

      “My grandfather would be ashamed.”

      Descended from a long line of clothing manufacturers, brave Shun Zhang had come to the United States from Hong Kong with little more than a dream to start a label here. With his own two hands, he’d built LilyZ into a multimillion-dollar company that had once had an impeccable reputation.

      Jin’s voice rose to a volume Mimi knew conveyed just how upset he was. “My father hid the debts. He withdrew funds to supposedly pay bills but instead spent the money on himself and his latest arm candy. And instructed his accountant to keep it confidential, even from me.”

      “So you were blindly captaining that ship,” Mimi restated. She brought Jin his mug but this time set it down on the coffee table so as not to have physical contact with him again so soon. That was a little game she’d played with herself before. Unfortunately, the hitch of a smile he gave her in receipt of the coffee pinged right into her chest, defeating her strategy.

      The upturn of his straight-set lips had the same effect on her as it had when she was fifteen and had first met Jin Zhang. Utter fascination. The same with the high cheekbones that defined the shape of his face. At seventeen, his cheeks were fuller than their sharp angles of adulthood now. The dense slashes of his eyebrows were the same. As were his luminous dark, dark brown eyes. They had held less stress in them then, although the toll of living