Page 65 of Boyfriend of the Hour

“I did go to his room,” Marie admitted just when I was rooting around Nathan’s spice cabinet in hopes of finding something—anything—to save this dinner. “Daniel’s, I mean.”

I swung around with a sudden motion that sent oregano everywhere. “What? You never told me that! What happened?”

Marie shrugged while she toyed with a pencil. “I snuck up there on my last night after I’d finished cleaning up from the catering. The family was having a party, and it was still going on. But when he came up, he, um, had someone with him. The daughter of one of the guests, apparently.”

“Oh my God, tell me they didn’t?—”

Marie shook her head, color high. “I can still hear her. She sounded like Nonna’s old tea kettle. But I swear, there was noway to sneak out of there without being seen, so I just had to sit there, hiding between his suit pants while they did it.”

“So you just listened to your crush getting it on with another woman? You are such a perv!”

“I amnot!”

I slapped a hand over my mouth, unable to keep giggles from spilling out. The idea of my virginal sister crouched in a closet like a bystander in a bad porno was too much. No wonder Marie had agreed to stay in France for longer than originally planned. Pining or not, she undoubtedly had no desire to relive any part of that night.

“So, how did you finally get out? I know you came home that night. You were always back like four hours before curfew.”

She sighed but let the insult slide. “They left right after.”

“Ew, so he doesn’t even cuddle? Sounds like a douche.”

“Daniel is not a douche. They were just, I don’t know, going to a party or whatever. Daniel was always going to parties.”

I didn’t comment on the wistfulness in her voice. It was the same way I used to talk about Broadway—a supposed pipe dream I couldn’t help but chase while most people thought I was sad and pathetic for even trying for it.

Well, I showed them.

For a few weeks, anyway.

Then again, while I’d certainly never met Daniel Lyons, I’d seen more than enough of him inPage Six. The guy seemed to have a new model on his arm every week. They tracked him like big game hunters on safari.

It was yet another reason why Marie’s crush on him was so sad. She was so far from the man’s type, she might as well have been in outer space.

“Unfortunately, right before I left, his brother came in looking to borrow a belt and found me emerging from beneath a pair of Hugo Boss suits.”

My jaw dropped along with my spoon, which left a big splat of brownish tomato goop on the hardwood floor. “The old one?”

There were two Lyons brothers—Daniel was the younger media darling, while the older one, whose name I couldn’t remember, was a serious older man who ran the company, apparently.

“Lucas isn’t that old. He just turned forty.”

I made a face as I looked him up on my phone. “Old enough. And he looks at least fifty.”

“It’s the bow ties.”

“Or the scowls.” I shook my head and put my phone back on the stand so I could see Marie. “Too serious for me.”

Is he?

The question chimed through my mind alongside Nathan’s generally solemn face. Yeah, it was a bit hypocritical of me to be criticizing Lucas Lyons for being too serious when I was currently lusting after my own Clark Kent lookalike.

“So, what did he say?” I asked, if only to keep the conversation moving away fromthattrain of thought.

Marie toyed with one of her waves that had curled into a loose corkscrew near her chin. “He just sort of stared at me. Then asked if he could help me find anything.”

“And what didyousay?” I prodded. I knew an invitation when I heard it.

Marie just blinked. “I didn’t say anything. I was mortified and barely managed to scramble out of the room like a mouse.”