With No Reservations

“I’m really sorry about that,” a booming voice said. “Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

Sloane looked up to see perfect white teeth surrounded by a charming smile. And a face that looked oddly like Cooper’s.

“Hello.” He drew out the last syllable suggestively as his gaze moved from her face to her peep-toe flats and back. Holding on to her hand just a little too long. “Have I met you before?”

Sloane felt a gentle tug on her elbow. The real Cooper appeared at her other side, syrupy eyes filled with irritation for the man he’d just pulled her away from.

His look turned to concern as he faced her. “Are you all right?”

“I—” She darted her gaze between him and the person who’d spared her from certain humiliation. Same height, same muscular build, same chiseled facial structure and cleft chin. The other man had reddish-brown hair to Cooper’s mocha color and eyes so dark they were almost black in place of Cooper’s honey-flecked ones. “You’re...?”

“Brothers.” Cooper sighed. “Sloane Bradley, meet Owen Cooper. Director of marketing at J. Marian Restaurants.”

“Twin brothers.” Owen’s million-dollar grin was a stark contrast to Cooper’s flat reluctance. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Cooper rolled his eyes. “Sloane is the food writer helping with the launch.”

“Nice to meet you, as well.” Sloane’s voice came out shaky, no doubt compounded by her heartbeat’s seismic proportions. Was it her almost-fall and rescue that was whipping her into a tachycardia? The two very good-looking men on either side of her? The warmth of Cooper’s hand still holding her elbow?

And, goodness, did he clean up nicely. Cooper’s eyes practically glowed in the low lighting. His now stubble-free jawline could cut glass.

Sloane’s stomach dipped as she recognized the Cooper patriarch approaching, motioning his sons to him with a commanding expression. Cooper gave her an apologetic look before following his brother.

With their backs turned, she took the opportunity to smooth the hem of her dress and rearrange her Spanx in one stealthy movement.

She took in the room. So. Many. People. Just breathe. She only had to do this for a few months. Then things would return to normal.

When Sloane turned, Mr. Cooper was still speaking to his sons in a hushed tone. He was dressed in a dark, textured dinner jacket that looked fresh from the tailor. The woman at his side—gorgeous, with a sparkling planet on her ring finger, long white teeth that seemed to go on for miles and half his age—said nothing.

Unsure where to go or what to do, Sloane scoped out the restaurant decor. Cooper had pulled everything together in time. And he’d added a touch of elegance with low lighting and rustic burnished candlesticks on every table.

But the best part? Massive canvases of the photos she’d taken had been hung on each wall, flanking a huge black-and-white portrait of an older woman—probably seventy or so. The contrast and lighting of the photo highlighted her lined face, wide cheekbones, and deep set of her eyes in a way that showcased her strength and dignity. Though her mouth was set in a firm, thin line, there was a sparkle in her clear eyes that spoke volumes about her and also made her very French. Made Sloane want to know her.

She tore her gaze from the portrait and turned to the Coopers. Owen was deep in conversation with a woman she recognized as a network news anchor while Mr. Cooper and his wife moved on to more schmoozeworthy pastures.

“Come with me.” Cooper’s low whisper startled Sloane and sent shivers down her spine. “I know just the spot for you.”

He led her to a table with a small chalkboard sign marked Reserved. Seated there were a blonde who looked fresh from the beach and a woman with the regal elegance of a politician’s wife—Marian Cooper.

Sloane sucked in a trembling breath. If she could have any superpower right now, it would definitely be invisibility. Cooper destroyed any possibility of that when he interrupted their conversation. “Ladies, excuse me.”

They turned toward him, mirroring his charming smile. Sloane flinched as his fingers brushed her bra strap and came to a rest on her lower back.

“I’d like you to meet Sloane Bradley, freelance writer and ambassador for VisibilityNet. She’ll be working to expand our presence on the web.”

Sloane listened closely for a dismissive air in his tone, still a little stung by his words a few days before. But if he still thought her job was ridiculous despite all of the help she’d given him, he hid it really well.

“Oh.” The blonde straightened to her full, runway model posture. “You’re a blogger, right? I think I’ve seen some of your recipes on Pinterest.”

Sloane swallowed a lump in her throat, wishing more than anything that Grace or one of her faithful blog commenters was here to do the talking.

“Yes, her recipes have built quite the following,” Cooper answered for her. “This is Trina Taylor, local reporter for the Dallas Morning News.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of you, too,” Sloane said. “You have quite the reputation around here.”

“Persistent?” Trina raised a shaped eyebrow.

Sloane nodded. “Yeah, something like that.” Though she’d never met the reporter in person, ruthless was the word people most often used to describe Trina. It was an excellent quality for a young journalist, but Sloane preferred to stay away from them in general. Maybe it was all the questions.

Cooper moved behind his mother’s chair. “And this stunning creature, as you know, is my mother, Marian Cooper.”

“Hello again.” A nervous laugh escaped Sloane, followed by an even more awkward wave, if such a thing was possible.

The older woman smiled, her familiar golden-brown eyes glowing. “Hi, Sloane. You’re welcome to sit at our table.”

Calmed by Marian’s drawl, Sloane pulled out the chair next to her. “That’s very kind of you.”

Cooper stepped aside as a server arrived with a tray of appetizers. His head swiveled toward the door, where people dressed in expensive suits and glittering jewels filed inside. “I need to say hello to a few other guests,” he said over his shoulder. “So I’ll leave you ladies to enjoy the evening. Let me know if you need anything.”

Trina dove right in when he was out of earshot. “So, Ms. Cooper, what is your role at the company these days? Are you here on official business?” She tore a leaf from the roasted artichoke and sucked it delicately. “Mmm. This is delicious.”

Part of Sloane was glad Trina wasn’t the type to pull her punches. Maybe Sloane would get some answers about this family that she didn’t have the clearance to ask.

“You want to know how they handle the jilted matriarch at these kinds of things?” Marian’s expression didn’t waver.

“That’s not what I was asking, but if you’re answering...”

Please be careful what you say! One wrong step and Marian could find herself snapped up in a proverbial bear trap, if the amusement twinkling in Trina’s eyes was any indication.

“Though I elected to focus on the City on a Hill Foundation, I’m still very interested in the company that has my name on it, even if I’m not involved with the day-to-day operations.”

“Of course.” Trina gave a little nod.

“But beyond keeping an eye on my investments, this is one of the biggest nights in my son’s life. Anything else is a nonissue.”

Good for her. Kind, but still firm. Jilted or not, the woman could hold her own.

Sloane glanced at Trina, measuring whether the reporter was daring enough to dig deeper. Not now, her firmly pressed lips told Sloane. But her calculating eyes said there would definitely be a later.

A silence settled over the table as they sampled the French onion soup. Sloane focused on picking out each ingredient in the broth as the hum of chatter in the room and the soft, dulcet French music whitewashed her senses into a warm calm.

Once she was thoroughly relaxed, she excused herself and pulled out her camera to take some action shots for her recap article. The hoity-toities were too focused on their food to notice her, which was exactly how she liked to keep it. She even captured one of the Dallas-Fort Worth area’s district attorneys midbite, staring at his croque monsieur as if it had been laced with some kind of love potion.

Trina’s chair was empty when Sloane returned, traded for a spot next to Cooper and Owen. Judging by the look in Trina’s eyes and the way she was half hanging on Owen, it seemed she was about to lap the Cooper brothers up with a spoon.

Nope. That was none of Sloane’s concern.

“Your son is an excellent chef, Marian.” She put her fork down after finishing her chocolate lava cake and leaned back in her chair. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to cut my Spanx off when I get home.”