Once and Forever Read online

  “Yes it is! It’s the best and you know it.”

  “I thought you said you two were part of some cleaning crew?” Steve reminded her.

  Kendall shrugged off the lie and was about to explain when Steve held up his hand. “Never mind. Let Mike finish with his crew, and then we’ll meet you there. What’s the apartment number?”

  Jessica narrowed her eyes at her twin, a sure sign of anger. Kendall could translate that look pretty easily into: “You owe me big time.” Or maybe it was: “You are in a boatload of trouble.” Either way, Kendall hoped a few hours of masculine company would defuse the lecture she could feel coming.

  When Jessica switched her attention to the O’Haras, she was all charm. “I’ll go ahead and set the table and open a bottle of wine. Kendall can bring you to my place when you’re ready.”

  Jessica left with a final glare at Kendall. She knew what that one meant too: “This better not be an invitation to disaster.” She was gone before Kendall could utter any reassurances.

  No way this will go badly, she thought. Just two guys coming up for a meal. Yeah, but they were two guys they’d only met a few minutes ago. And at least one of them was used to getting anything he wanted.

  She watched as Mike talked to the guys with the clipboards and Steve trotted off for a pow wow with his security detail. Well, it might be true that they didn’t know these guys, but that didn’t mean they were in any kind of danger. Kendall could hit 911 as fast as anyone, she always carried pepper spray, and she had a decent set of martial arts moves that would surprise any would–be attacker. Nope, there wasn’t anything worry about.

  Sharing a meal with the O’Hara brothers was a brilliant idea.

  Chapter Two

  Lasagna as a come on?” Mike’s producer laughed out loud. “Since when does Steve pimp you out? And a better question: Do you want to share the wealth?”

  “No. I do not.” Mike signed off on something his assistant Ben gave him and then told the kid to take the rest of the day off.

  Steve heard the whole exchange as he approached them and could only hope that Kendall Marshall hadn’t. He glanced her way. Nope, she was engrossed in watching the crew dismantle the outdoor studio. Good.

  “Hey, Ben.” He called out to Mike’s assistant, who hadn’t quite moved fast enough to avoid one more chore.

  “Hey, Steve,” the kid said.

  “Can you give Kendall here the five–minute rundown on the setup and how it works?” He turned to Kendall. “How about it?”

  “I’d love it.”

  As Ben and Kendall walked away, Steve could hear Kendall apologizing for him. “Nothing worse than having your free time stolen, is there?”

  “Listen Mike.” Steve cornered his brother, turning him so that the two of them has as much privacy as the sidewalk would allow. “Did you hear that noise right after the interview ended?”

  Mike shook his head. “A little early for the fourth of July isn’t it?”

  Steve nodded, unsmiling.

  “Not fireworks?” his brother asked, suddenly looking uncertain.

  “Oh, it was nothing but a few cherry bombs.” If it had been anything more they wouldn’t still be standing out there on the street. “But Dempsey found this when he went to investigate.”

  Steve held out his phone and showed Mike a picture of the note. It read: You’re safe this time. Next time, maybe not.

  “Crap,” was his brother’s only comment. He crumpled the paper and tossed it back at him.

  “Agreed. I don’t like the sound of it.”

  “Why are we still standing here?” Mike looked back at the line of fans waiting to greet him and the otherwise empty street.

  “The perp is long gone.” Steve had studied the fans closely, and none of them looked dangerous. “But,” he said with emphasis. “I think it’s time to end this love fest and go get some lasagna. I’ll feel better once you’re behind closed doors.”

  Mike nodded and moved away from the crowd. A phalanx of security guards fell in behind him, effectively separating him from the crowd. Sounds of disappointment, from curses to sighs, came from the people who were waiting. Ben’s assistant or maybe his assistant’s assistant, hustled over to the line with some signed photos and a couple of O’Hara T–shirts to ease their pain.

  Satisfied that the situation was being handled, Steve looked around for Kendall. She had circled around and was patting Ben on the arm – what did Ben have that he didn’t? – and then she walked over to Mike, ignoring his existence. Steve fell in behind her, admiring the rear view.

  “The tour was amazing, Mike. Thank you so much. I’ve been in the acting business for years, but I’ve never done an outdoor shoot before. I guess I really need to learn more about the details. The thing is, I’m a big picture person, so it’s hard for me to keep the deets in my head. Jessica is the detail queen. I wish that ability could have been split more evenly between us at birth.”

  Now that was a surprise, and Steve hated surprises. Kendall was an actress. Should he know her?

  “You’re an actress?” Mike asked with interest.

  Back off, brother. She’s my discovery.

  Steve was sure he hadn’t spoken out loud, but Mike looked back at him and winked, explaining, “Steve wonders if he should know you from some movie.”

  Kendall laughed. “I wish. So far some commercials and training films and off–off Broadway plays. So far off they were in New Jersey. Actually, I’m just as interested in what goes on behind the camera.”

  “So what restaurant do you waitress at?”

  She shook her head and gave him a good–natured smile. “I work for Chadwick Diamonds.”

  “Sales?”

  “Yes, usually private sales to really rich people.”

  “I’m really rich,” Mike said, taking her arm – just to annoy him, Steve was sure. Almost sure.

  “They’d send Liliana to work with you. She’s much more your type.”

  He stopped. “And how the hell would you know that?”

  “Cause none of your girlfriends have blue highlights in their hair,” Steve said and Kendall nodded at him with approval.

  “You bet we do our research. We’re talking big money here.”

  “Huh,” was all Mike said. As any fan of his program would know, it was the sound he made when he was surprised or impressed. His cell phone beeped and he let go of Kendall’s arm with an apology, stepping aside to take the call.

  With a nod to the security team to stay on Mike, Steve cozied up to Kendall, giving her his full attention.

  “So that loud noise before. Were they really firecrackers?” she asked.

  “Close enough. Cherry bombs.”

  “Oh.” She seemed to think about it for a minute. “So, are you the most paranoid brother in the world now?”

  “Nah, I think if the President of Syria has a brother, he’d get that award.”

  Kendall nodded. “And I suppose Brad Pitt and George Clooney’s brothers must have to worry more than you.”

  “Nah. Mike is much more available than those Hollywood types. He has a live show in front of a studio audience three days a week. George and Brad don’t get that kind of exposure.”

  “So protecting him is more than a full–time job?”

  “Well, it’s in the one in which I take the most personal interest, but Brad and George get plenty of my time too.”

  She stopped and turned to face him fully. “Come on, you’ve got to be kidding. You guard them too?”

  “My firm does.” So now he had surprised her. They were even.

  She started walking again, still shaking her head. “And when I saw you, I thought you were just some guy loitering.”

  “Which is exactly what I wanted to look like.”

  He wondered if she’d had a previous career as an inquisitor. She’d gotten more out of him in the past minute or two than most women did over the course of an evening. Of course, he didn’t exactly specialize in conversation.


  “So where do you live?” he asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

  “Right here with my sister.” Kendall gestured to the brownstone. A classic set of sweeping stone steps led up to a double door. A smaller set of steps to the left led to a door under the stairs. “I rent her basement apartment.”

  Jessica’s place was Steve’s next surprise. It wasn’t a tiny Brooklyn apartment. The woman owned the whole building, and other than the basement, it didn’t seem to be broken up into apartments.

  Maybe he should have Googled Jessica before accepting the invitation. Steve pulled out his phone and texted his office. He’d know all he needed to in ten minutes.

  “Jess!” Kendall called from the wood–paneled entry hall, which felt noticeably cooler, welcome after the harsh summer sun.

  “In the kitchen!” she called back.

  No formality here, which was exactly the way Steve preferred it. He and Mike followed Kendall down the hall, past a living room and dining room, to an uber–modern kitchen that spread across the back of the house. The east corner had a cozy eating area, but Jessica had set the table in the dining room, so they’d probably be eating in there.

  The smell of tomato sauce and cheese filled the air, and the fixings for a Caesar salad were spread out across the kitchen counter. Jessica was slicing a loaf of Italian bread. She paused to give them her full attention.

  “I thought I’d go with a deconstructed Caesar salad, because I know that not everyone likes anchovies.”

  She looked like a teacher who was about to give her class a lesson in food service. He wanted to raise his hand and ask, “What the hell is a deconstructed salad?”

  Kendall growled from the back of her throat, a sound of frustration. “She means we’re going to make our own salads. Jessica spends way too much time watching the Food Network.”

  “I’ll eat my salad any way you want,” Mike offered. “It’s damn nice of you to feed two strangers.”

  “Not exactly strangers,” Jessica said in an aloof voice. “Everyone knows who you are, Mike O’Hara, and God only knows that my sister has never met a stranger in her life.”

  Steve ran his tongue over his teeth to keep from smiling. The two women were obviously close, but given how different they were, the bickering between them was no surprise.

  “We’ll feel even less like strangers if you know some of our embarrassing secrets. Mike watches HGTV,” Steve announced just to balance the scales a little. “His hobby is buying houses or watching other people buy them.”

  “How many do you own?” Kendall asked while her sister busied herself with checking on the lasagna, which was in the oven and not the microwave.

  “Four,” Michael said without the slightest bit of apology. “A place in SOHO, one in LA, a beach house in Santa Barbara, and a cattle ranch in Oregon.”

  “That’s a little excessive, don’t you think?” Jessica asked, still as cool and prim as could be.

  “Would be, but I have college students as house sitters, so the houses are never empty, and I figure it helps needy kids get through school.”

  “Hey that’s great,” Kendall said. “It’s like the way Jessica helps me by giving me the apartment below stairs for hardly any rent at all. I contribute a little to the utilities.” She said with a shrug and then looked from one to the other. “So you two do have something in common.”

  Was that what this was all about? Was Kendall trying to hook her sister up with his brother? Good luck, honey, he thought, Mike likes to find his own sweeties.

  “Do you want to see the house?” Kendall offered. “It’s really fabulous.”

  “It’s not your house to show, Kendall.” Jessica glared at her sister, but then had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Go ahead. It will be another ten or fifteen before everything’s ready.”

  Kendall led them back into the front hall.

  “You don’t see many of these brownstones still set–up as a single family homes,” Mike said, running his hand along the satiny chair rail that traced the length of the hall. “Has it been in your family for long?”

  Steve’s phone buzzed, giving him all the answers they could want on the Marshall sisters. Jessica Marshall had been divorced from Lanyon Winbrooke for five years. Steve pressed his lips together to contain a whistle. Winbrooke was one of the big hedge fund managers who’d been under investigation by the SEC for years. Had the divorce been before or after that debacle?

  “Oh, Jessica has only owned it solo for about five years. It was part of her divorce settlement.”

  “Huh.” Mike looked back at him. Steve nodded and mouthed, “Later.”

  Kendall Marshall was an actress, just as she’d said. IMDB revealed that she’d been in a number of projects but nothing big enough to give her top billing.

  Kendall led them into the front parlor, which was across the hall from the dining room. Large built–in bookcases defined the back wall, but as Kendall showed them, one of them was actually a door leading to a small room lined with shelves.

  “Clever,” Mike nodded his approval.

  “Panic room,” Steve announced to no one in particular.

  “Yes,” Kendall said, “But since Jessica never panics, she turned it into a storage closet.”

  “But it could still hold a couple of people if necessary.” He eyed the door, which was lined with steel. The book case was a great way to mask the door, and his guess was that it locked automatically. Yup, there was a key on the wall inside the room, next to a wall phone and a button with the advisory “DO NOT TOUCH EXCEPT IN EMERGENCY.”

  Jessica might not panic, but she was prepared in case someone else did.

  It took them a solid three minutes to walk up the stairs because Mike was fascinated by the tiny brass mouse that was perched between the two balustrades, holding up the stair rails.

  The second level had two bedroom suites, each with its own bathroom and sitting room. Though it was neat as a nun’s cell, it was easy to tell which one Jessica used as her bedroom. Framed photos topped the dresser and there was a particularly nice one of what he assumed was the whole Marshall family on the night table next to her king–size canopy bed.

  But the top floor was the most revealing of all. The back half faced south and was a studio of some kind with floor to ceiling windows shaded against the southern sun. Stacks and stacks of fabric in coordinating colors were stored in open cubicles. There was a large sort of frame – a quilting frame, Steve guessed – and three framed certificates lined the wall. Maybe he had stopped reading that Google search too soon.

  “Huh,” was all Mike said as he moved around the space. There were skylights too, which were also shielded against the summer sun.

  “Jessica is a world class quilter. It’s a true art form for her. She has a quilt in the collection at the Paducah Museum.” In response to their blank look, Kendall explained, “It’s like having your footprint on the avenue of stars in Hollywood.”

  “Got it.” Mike looked around. “Nothing in the works right now?”

  “Not here. In the summer she does most of her work at her place in Cooperstown, New York.”

  “Where the baseball Hall of Fame is?” Mike asked, surprised by the coincidence.

  “Yes, but I doubt that she’s been there,” Kendall said laughing. “I guess I shouldn’t admit this to you, but she’s not a fan of professional sports.”

  She paraded them down the hall, passing a bathroom and an elevator – “one of the world’s smallest” according to Kendall. The front room was an office. A really big home office. It felt much less comfortable than the rest of the house. It had to have been the ex’s space, Steve guessed.

  “This is pretty obviously where Jessica pays her bills and spies on the neighbors.”

  Bordered by a giant window seat that was so large it could be used as a seat or a bed, the window looked down on the street.

  Kendall’s phone squawked and she checked the screen. “The lasagna is ready!”

  Mike no
dded and immediately headed down the stairs, as if starvation had been taking a toll on him.

  “Do not get in the way of that man when he’s hungry,” Steve said as they followed at a slower pace.

  “He’s a big guy. Probably takes lots of food to keep him revved.”

  “I feel like I should warn you about something…”

  Kendall stopped on the second floor landing. “Oh really? About what?” she asked with all the hauteur of Katherine Hepburn.

  “Trying to get Mike to take an interest in your sister will not work at all.”

  “He’s gay?” she announced with feigned shock. “How has the press missed that?”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “Jeez, thanks for the news flash, Steve, but here’s one for you. I’m not trying to set them up.”

  “I don’t believe you.” He was standing next to her now, and he was a full head taller.

  “Your type wouldn’t.”

  “My type?”

  Kendall shook her head and started to make her way down the hall to the steps leading to the first floor.

  “Wait,” Steve reached out and grabbed her arm, damn annoyed by her dismissive gesture.

  “Hands off, cowboy,” Kendall said. He let go because she was right. He had no business touching her.

  “That’s what you think I am? A cowboy?”

  “Sure.”

  “And exactly what do you mean by that?”

  “You might not wear cowboy boots. That would be way too obvious, but I bet you carry a gun. And you’ve already done a background check on me and Jessica. I’d put money on it.”

  “I don’t carry a gun very often, and I don’t think cowboys do background checks,” he scoffed. So what if she was right about the Google search.

  “I think they called them Wanted posters in the Old West.” Kendall Marshall gave him a Cheshire Cat smile and hurried down the stairs, spinning around the newel post at the bottom before turning into the dining room.

  Steve O’Hara laughed in spite of himself. If she wasn’t so damn appealing with those blue eyes and blue hair, he wouldn’t have laughed. And if her sister and his brother weren’t one wall away, he might have shown her exactly how “wanted” she was.