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Because I was suddenly getting the feeling that it might matter to Vince Trifelli that I was young enough to be his…kid sister.“I’m thirty-one,” I said finally, deciding to go for honesty.

“Thirty-one.” His dark eyes went ponderous, as if he were lost in some memory of what thirty-one felt like, and suddenly he did look younger to me, almost carefree. Not that it mattered. I liked him the way he was. Weathered. Older. Experienced.

Hot. What had I’d been thinking, chasing all those boys around for so long?

When he came back from wherever he had gone mentally and saw the way I was feasting on him, Vince’s face seemed to harden. I wondered at that.

“So I assume it was you ”who suggested the remerchandising on those samples that came back?“

His tone was accusing. As if maybe he shared Shari’s opinion that I had taken control of the reins before they’d been given to me. Hoping to put that thought quickly to rest, I met his gaze. “Yes, it was me. I couldn’t, in good conscience, represent merchandise I wouldn’t even consider wearing myself.”

I saw his gaze flicker briefly over my tight tank top, my cargo skirt. “Is that right?”

“That’s right. Those buttons were too heavy. And the shoulder flaps were an abomination. Those jackets looked like costumes for Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. And though I have nothing against returning to the sixties from a fashion point of view, I didn’t think we should ever go there for that design. It was Maggie’s idea—” I stopped, stumbling over her name. Even I couldn’t avoid talking about the woman tonight. I wondered how long she was going to haunt me.

I saw him frown, and I feared he sensed some of my freshly stirred ire at my former boss. Though Tom hadn’t seemed to blink an eye about giving me the position within weeks of his wife’s death, I wasn’t sure what Vince thought of the fact that I had, before she was even cold in the ground, not only taken over her job but undone all the changes she had made to the designs before you could utter, “May she rest in peace.”

I guess you could say it was a little odd. And, yes, even cold.

I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

He stared at me for a moment and then treated me to what seemed like genuine laughter.“That Maggie. She wasn’t much for this sort of thing, was she? But she tried. Lord knows she tried.” He sighed. “She was a good kid.”

“The best,” I said, though the words felt like rubber in my mouth.

“Well, Sage, I can see why Tom hired you. You know your skin.”

I smiled, releasing that breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. I felt like I had passed some test I had no way to study for. With flying colors, too.

Because Vince Trifelli was looking at me with something that seemed like admiration.

And maybe, I thought, seeing that glint in his dark eyes, maybe even something more.

But I didn’t get a chance to find out. Because suddenly there was a commotion on the front deck, and I saw Tom abandon Zoe at the sink as a woman I recognized from a neighboring house yanked open the sliding door. “Tom, come quick. There’s a guy outside caught in the tide. I think he’s in trouble!”

Chapter Twenty-five

Nick

Occupational Hazards

I’ve never seen anything like that,“ I said, shaking my head.

“You said that already,” Sage reminded me, for the third time.

We were standing on the beach—me, Sage, Zoe and Francesca— watching as Tom leaned over Les, who was at least sitting up now, near the shoreline. JoBeth, the neighbor who had come running to the house when she spotted Les tumbling in the waves, stood beside them, arms folded, as if standing guard over the situation.

“I guess I’m in awe,” I said now, still studying Tom as he put a hand on Less shoulder while he spoke to him.

“I know I am,” Zoe said. “Though I don’t know if I’d call it awe so much as shock.”

“Yeah, well, just chalk it up to that good instinct you have for people,” Sage said, shooting a look at Zoe.

Up until five minutes ago, Sage had been pretty quiet. Now she seemed damned pissed. Maybe she was just as disgusted with Les as I was. Or maybe—and this was probably more likely—she was in a snit that her little tete-a-tete with Vince was disturbed by Les’s shenanigans.

Speak of the devil, I thought, as Vince blew past us, carrying a blanket. I saw Sage’s face visibly soften as he jogged to the shoreline and dropped the blanket around Les’s shivering shoulders.

“I told you Tom was good in an emergency,” Sage told Zoe.

“So the guy knows CPR,” Zoe muttered, “that doesn’t absolve him from everything.” She didn’t say this with much conviction, though she did have the good grace to cringe when she realized Francesca was out here with us. Not that it mattered. Francesca hadn’t said a word since we’d run out here. Now she continued to remain quiet, not moving a muscle as she stood there, arms folded, staring at her father as he leaned over Les.

Francesca and Zoe aside, I was fucking impressed.“CPR? That was more than just CPR. You saw the way Tom ran into that water, cutting through it like a knife. Then he pulled Les out like Les was nothing more than a rag doll. It was like watching live fucking Baywatch.䄬

Now Sage turned to look at me, an eyebrow raised.“Don’t you think you ought to do something useful? Like go down there and see if your friend needs anything?”

“Tom told us to clear the area!” I protested. In truth, I didn’t mind standing at a distance. This way, I didn’t have to look at Les’s pale, snot-nosed face. I’m telling you, that dude was a big disappointment. Wandering off by himself, then practically drowning in the ocean. If that was some

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