Page 4 of It Happened Again

I stared at it for a second too long. I hadn’t worn it in a long time. Hadn’t planned to today either. But my fingers closed around it before I could second guess myself.

It was cold. That’s all. Just cold. Not a commentary on how much she’d been on my mind lately thanks to the Bellamy’s latest project at Orion Mind Institute where they studied thebrain, the nervous system, science stuff like that. Maisy was a scientist—a young, beautiful, sexy, bright scientist.

Dammit, what a way to start my day thinking about her.

I looped it once around my neck and pulled my trench collar up. I grabbed the keys to my Mercedes-Maybach SL 680 and headed out the door.

The seat in white Nappa leather hugged me like a glove as I settled in for the drive across Manhattan. I would normally call my driver, but the Maybach had recently been delivered. She needed road time, and I needed to be seen in it. Not that I was egotistical. But I’d worked damn hard building a top architectural firm with my twin, and it was time to enjoy what I’d earned.

After taking a year off to lecture at Cambridge on a teaching fellowship, my recent passions turned toward educating the next generation in the art of architecture. I wouldn’t mind spending more of my time doing that, but I’d yet to work out how to tell Archer I wanted to bow out of our business.

By the time I arrived at Orion Mind Institute, after valet parking at a hotel down the block, Archer and Lacey were there. Seated in the reception area, he impatiently twiddled his thumbs while she tapped away on her phone.

She glanced up, her lips parting in that polished, perfect assistant way of hers. “Good morning, Mr. Bellamy.”

“Lacey,” I nodded, noting she must have had her hair recently highlighted. She wasn’t unattractive to look at, and made a proficient impression with our clients.

Archer started with a low whistle. “You joining a knitting circle after this or just channeling your inner Mr. Rogers? Bold fashion choice, little brother.”

As twins, we were only a minute apart. I rolled my eyes and tugged the scarf loose. “Frosty morning. Don’t be a dick.”

“Handmade,” he added, grinning. “And by the looks of that uneven stitch—handmade withfeeling.” He knew very well who gave this scarf to me a few years back, and was definitely being a dick about it.

The receptionist ushered us into the boardroom, and we got settled. I stuffed the scarf into my coat pocket like the nubby feel of the yarn hadn’t just punched me in the chest at the memories ofher.

Before I could get too possessed by the past, the boardroom doors opened and the Orion people marched in. Dr. Patterson, the CEO, greeted us with a brisk handshake and the same intense energy he always gave off—like he was perpetually a few seconds away from a major advancement in world health.

“Brooks. Archer. Glad you’re here. I’m pleased with the progress of the build. Looking forward to your updates today,” he said.

The meeting began, and Archer and I launched into our presentation. We had our twin act down to a science—him, the focused, no-nonsense type, and me with a knack for charming, despite my current mood.

Lacey sat beside me, flipping through the project binder, cool and capable, jumping in when she needed to. We were a team and performed well together.

Halfway through a tense exchange about construction timelines for the remainder of the build, she made a comment about optimizing the material delivery schedule to facilitate a speedier completion time that had both Archer and me glancing her way.

Smart. Sharp. I made a mental note to bump up her performance bonus.

“In short, about eight weeks from now, the first phase of the three-part Horizon expansion to this building will be complete,” I finished the presentation.

After answering more questions, the meeting wrapped up, and Patterson stood and shook our hands again. “Excellent progress, gentlemen. We’re counting on things being done soon.” He nodded toward Lacey. “And Ms. Andrews. Impressive insight.”

“Thank you,” Lacey said, professional smile firmly in place.

As we exited the room, I turned to her. “You were great in there. Thanks for keeping us on track.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine with a touch of something more—warm and lingering. “That’s my job. But I’m glad I could impress you.”

Archer caught it too. I could tell from the way he smirked and elbowed me the moment her heels clicked down the hall in front of us as we walked out.

“She’s got it bad,” he whispered.

I glared at him. “Stop.”

“She’s competent. Cute. And clearly fantasizing about what it’d be like to be all yours for lunch.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. Archer would keep going whether or not I fed him the opportunity.

As we stepped outside, Archer cast me a sideways glance. “You good?”

---