Page 6 of Clear Blue Sky

And she loved Manhattan.

Or at least she thought she had.

It had been the only thing she’d ever known until Lake had met and fell in love with Tiki. Once Lake had moved, everything in her world changed. She’d been given the one thing she thought she wanted more than anything.

Power in her family’s business and the respect from her father that she thought she’d been lacking her entire life.

Only, it fell short.

She wasn’t sure if it was wanting a change in scenery, or if it had something to do with Nelson, but there was only one way to find out.

“Where is that adorable little niece of mine?” She barreled through the front door without even ringing the doorbell. Of course, Lake and Tiki had been given the heads-up that she’d left the restaurant and was bringing home their favorite meals.

The sound of a baby wailing in the background led her to the massive kitchen that overlooked Harris Bay.

“Wow. She grew a set of lungs.” Brandi left her suitcase in the hallway and set her computer bag and takeout on the counter.

“She’s also not sleeping.” Lake lifted a bottle of red wine from the cooler. “Would you like a glass?”

“So not fair.” Tiki stood in front of the sliding glass door, gently rocking back and forth as she patted a fussy—no, more like angry—Maddie’s back. “I could so use an entire bottle.”

“You could give up breastfeeding altogether.” Lake let out a long breath.

“And let my sisters have one up on me. Not on your life,” Tiki said. “It seems my child is the only one suffering from the syndrome known aslet’s torture parents all day.”

“That might come from our side of the family.” Brandi took the glass her brother offered. She would sip it slowly and possibly not even finish it. She needed to be able to drive to Nelson’s, a rendezvous she wasn’t going to miss. Not this trip. “My mom couldn’t, or wouldn’t, breastfeed either of us. She said we were incapable of latching on and all we ever did was scream at her in the process.”

“So my husband has mentioned a few times,” Tiki said. “I’m going to take her into the master and lie down with her. Hopefully, she’ll feed, fall asleep, and we both can take a little nap.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Lake kissed both baby and mom, in that order. “Holler if you need me.”

“You know I will.” Tiki scurried off around the corner.

“I’m so tired, but so appreciative of you letting me have six weeks to do not much of anything.”

“All I want from you is refuge every weekend, a new book from you in six months, one from the both of you, and one from Tiki in eight, and some help with this military thriller.” She reached in her bag and pulled out a manuscript. “I met with the writer. I told him I wasn’t done, so I didn’t have much advice yet. He’s already pitching me on a series, which has merit.”

“What’s his background?” He sat on one of the barstools and pulled the manuscript in front of him, flipping over the front page.

“A decorated ex-Green Beret. Went to West Point. He left about six months ago when he got married. His wife is five months pregnant. I’ve only read the first three chapters and it’s pretty good. He needs a little coaching and I worry the mission aspect might be a little too real. We’d have to reach out to the military and make sure there’s nothing compromising in it.”

“That’s never fun.”

“I’ve never acquired a book like this before.” Brandi had to admit that her new role in the family business was harder than she thought it would be, but her brother had always been willing to lend an ear. “The thing is, this book is really a tragedy. It’s got intrigue, mystery, a little romance, but no happily ever after. At least not how he pitched it in his cover letter. When I asked him if there was any truth to the story, he flat-out said absolutely not, although he did say his family dealt with something similar.”

“What exactly are we talking about?”

“A soldier dying during a mission and leaving a wife behind. That’s the only connection to his personal life. The twists and turns are there was an affair. A baby. A miscarriage. It’s an epic story, though I wonder if it wouldn’t be better if the heroine didn’t lose the child or end up a killer, even though it was in self-defense.”

“That’s depressing,” Lake said. “Who’s the father?”

“The way it’s written, another soldier, which is who she kills.”

“That setup is cliché. It might read better if the husband doesn’t die. Is MIA and comes back.”

“Perhaps. But the characterization—from what I read—is top-notch.”

“So, why am I looking at it?” He folded his arms over the papers. “You’re the senior acquisitions editor now, not me. I work for you.”

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