front of the Plaza.”
Her gaze alighted on the flashing lights and he heard the ready agreement in her town. “Those shoes are a small price to pay for avoiding suspicion and wasting several hours neither of us has. Besides, we’ll let them be a reward for some poor woman who doesn’t get to escape our fate and has to sit and answer questions for the next three hours.”
“That’s my good little CEO. Altruistic yet crafty. It’s an admirable combination.”
Her smile was bright under the streetlamps as she stared up at him. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
* * *
Whatever impression she’d had of Campbell Steele at three o’clock that afternoon had been turned on its ear more times than she could count in the ensuing eight hours. From the earnest and somewhat playful computer geek to society rogue and seducer to predator after its prey, Campbell had shown an endless array of facets.
Abby suspected it was what made him so good at his job. She also suspected it was part of a bigger personality trait.
The effortless ability to fit into any situation all the while leaving nothing of himself behind.
Although she’d never met him before today, she knew the rest of Kensington’s family. Liam was the oldest, Kensington and Rowan the two younger girls and Campbell took the spot above them. An older brother and younger brother, all at the same time.
It was an interesting position, she mused, to have both familial leadership while never being the true top dog. If her observations through the years were correct, the Steele siblings were each other’s fiercest champions and most wicked adversaries.
And they all had a bond that went well beyond mere family ties when they’d all borne the horrible price of losing their parents at a young age. Whatever the Steele siblings might have been, the death of their parents had the strange consequence of pulling them close while driving an inconsolable wedge of resentment that split them into four equal parts.
They each had a mysterious ability to stand out all while morphing into whatever image the viewer wanted to make of them and Abby suspected it was a skill they’d first honed with each other.
She’d certainly seen Kenzi do it time and again at school. The shy debutante their freshman year at Radcliffe. The daring bad girl who knew how to secure cigarettes and liquor every weekend. The sexual temptress who drove the boys crazy with interest.
All were her yet, Abby had always thought, none were her.
And it seemed as if her brother had the same trait in spades.
“Why do you think I’m sad?”
“I read people, Abby. And I know how to look beneath the surface. It’s what I do.”
A heavy laugh leaped to her lips, unbidden. “It’s widely believed I have no depths at all. Many an article have suggested it’s the loss of my mother at a very early age, the loss of my father early in my tenure at the company and ‘my sharp mind coupled with a tireless drive to succeed’ that have made me a cool, aloof, somewhat soulless leader who doesn’t suffer fools.”
“Why suffer fools?”
She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, surprised the thin cashmere had made the rough-and-tumble journey. She’d had the material fisted in her hands with the clutch and it was amusing to realize she still held both. “Exactly.”
“But I don’t think it’s those fools who make you sad when you run.”
He settled his hand on her back, the heat of his fingers warming her in the evening breeze of early fall. Although the thin shawl had cut the breeze, Campbell’s hand brought the true warmth.
“It’s my mother. She’s why I’m sad when I run.”
He moved his hand in simple, even strokes along her spine, the light touch conveying any number of thoughts without words.
Support.
Understanding.
Comfort.
“She died when I was little. I barely even remember her, truth be told. But several years after her death my father was remarried for a few
Her gaze alighted on the flashing lights and he heard the ready agreement in her town. “Those shoes are a small price to pay for avoiding suspicion and wasting several hours neither of us has. Besides, we’ll let them be a reward for some poor woman who doesn’t get to escape our fate and has to sit and answer questions for the next three hours.”
“That’s my good little CEO. Altruistic yet crafty. It’s an admirable combination.”
Her smile was bright under the streetlamps as she stared up at him. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
* * *
Whatever impression she’d had of Campbell Steele at three o’clock that afternoon had been turned on its ear more times than she could count in the ensuing eight hours. From the earnest and somewhat playful computer geek to society rogue and seducer to predator after its prey, Campbell had shown an endless array of facets.
Abby suspected it was what made him so good at his job. She also suspected it was part of a bigger personality trait.
The effortless ability to fit into any situation all the while leaving nothing of himself behind.
Although she’d never met him before today, she knew the rest of Kensington’s family. Liam was the oldest, Kensington and Rowan the two younger girls and Campbell took the spot above them. An older brother and younger brother, all at the same time.
It was an interesting position, she mused, to have both familial leadership while never being the true top dog. If her observations through the years were correct, the Steele siblings were each other’s fiercest champions and most wicked adversaries.
And they all had a bond that went well beyond mere family ties when they’d all borne the horrible price of losing their parents at a young age. Whatever the Steele siblings might have been, the death of their parents had the strange consequence of pulling them close while driving an inconsolable wedge of resentment that split them into four equal parts.
They each had a mysterious ability to stand out all while morphing into whatever image the viewer wanted to make of them and Abby suspected it was a skill they’d first honed with each other.
She’d certainly seen Kenzi do it time and again at school. The shy debutante their freshman year at Radcliffe. The daring bad girl who knew how to secure cigarettes and liquor every weekend. The sexual temptress who drove the boys crazy with interest.
All were her yet, Abby had always thought, none were her.
And it seemed as if her brother had the same trait in spades.
“Why do you think I’m sad?”
“I read people, Abby. And I know how to look beneath the surface. It’s what I do.”
A heavy laugh leaped to her lips, unbidden. “It’s widely believed I have no depths at all. Many an article have suggested it’s the loss of my mother at a very early age, the loss of my father early in my tenure at the company and ‘my sharp mind coupled with a tireless drive to succeed’ that have made me a cool, aloof, somewhat soulless leader who doesn’t suffer fools.”
“Why suffer fools?”
She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, surprised the thin cashmere had made the rough-and-tumble journey. She’d had the material fisted in her hands with the clutch and it was amusing to realize she still held both. “Exactly.”
“But I don’t think it’s those fools who make you sad when you run.”
He settled his hand on her back, the heat of his fingers warming her in the evening breeze of early fall. Although the thin shawl had cut the breeze, Campbell’s hand brought the true warmth.
“It’s my mother. She’s why I’m sad when I run.”
He moved his hand in simple, even strokes along her spine, the light touch conveying any number of thoughts without words.
Support.
Understanding.
Comfort.
“She died when I was little. I barely even remember her, truth be told. But several years after her death my father was remarried for a few
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