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He’d asked her to wear soht, but she didn’t show it like most wo to work The sexy came in the fore, and her killer heels Her idea of sexy paid off; she looked far sexier than a wo

She took another sip of her wine, then cocked her head and nibbled her lip, clearly confused at Smith’s statement about their mother Brock interjected to explain why they had such hatred for the woman who had raised them “Our mother wasn’t motherly”

Kyra frowned “But she adopted both of you, didn’t she?”

Brock leaned back in his chair and folded his ar her confusion No one but Brock and Smith knew the truth about their dear old mom He stayed silent as a waiter strode by the table, then said, “Marjorie was our foster mother, not adoptive”

Smith took a drink of his red wine “A foster mother who only took us in for the checks”

Kyra placed her wineglass on the table and looked at theether “What checks?”

Brock unfolded his ar the concern in Kyra’s features A caring woman too, he liked that “Marjorie received a ible foster child she took in, which hy she fostered kids It was never about loving children or wanting to provide them a home”

Kyra stared at hih and reached for Smith’s on top of the table “Did she feed you?”

Brock inclined his head, thinking her sy Marjorie did do Three meals a day and one snack before bed”

Kyra looked down at Smith’s hand joined with hers “Where is Marjorie now?”

“Dead,” Smith bit off

She lifted her head, and her eyes searched Smith’s Her voice softened “You have no other family?”

Brock shook his head, running his thumb over the silky skin near her knee “Just each other”

Soaze, a tenderness he hadn’t seen fro, confident, and focused Now, she looked undeniably gentle He liked that look on her

Kyra’s sympathy for their loveless childhood shone in her expression, and ether as they did—because they always had to They’d tried living apart right out of high school when Brock irlfriend and Smith rented his own apartment: they were both miserable