Realizing Jake still held my hand, I pulled out of his grasp and hurried to the kitchen. As I reached into the cupboard for a glass, I realized my hands were shaking. I tightened my fingers into fists to stop their trembling. It felt surreal that Jake Weston III was in my living room, talking to my brother. And that minutes ago, I was discussing my concerns about my brother with him. It felt wonderful and strange to be able to talk to another adult about my problems.

Don’t get used to this, Cora! He’s your boss.

I closed my eyes to center myself. The noises behind me drew my attention. My heart melted at the sight of two heads bent together in concentration. Marcus looked happy to finally have someone who spoke his language and Jake looked like a little boy. He had taken off his suit jacket and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. He seemed just as excited as my brother to play with the toys.

Never in a million years would I have imagined seeing the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company like this.

I walked over and handed the water to Jake and a pack of frozen peas to Marcus.

“Put this on your eye,” I ordered and sat on the sofa to watch them.

Surprisingly he took it without too much fuss, even though he soon put it down to free his hands to use the remote control to move one of his robots. The little gadget glided over the floor and stopped at the foot of the sofa. It backed up and moved sideways until it had room to maneuver again.

“I programmed this one to go around obstacles. It can climb things and jump off surfaces. I built in springs in its joints so that it could move better.”

“That’s really impressive, Marcus. How did you learn how to do this?”

“One of my teachers at my old school showed me how to build a basic model and I added the other features on my own. This robot won first place at the International Junior Robotics Expo.” Marcus was matter-of-fact about his amazing ability.

Both of Jake’s thick brows rose in astonishment. A burst of pride filled me that my brother could impress this man.

Jake lifted his head and gazed at me, his eyes speculative. Without breaking eye contact, he said, “You know Marcus, I could really use someone like you to help me test out some products for Robotrex. Of course, you’re too young for me to employ officially, but maybe you could visit our testing center for a couple of hours when we are working on a new product. It’s only a few times a year, but I’d love your input. That is, if your sister is okay with it.”

I frowned, not sure I liked the idea of my brother getting entangled with the company, however minor the involvement.

Marcus practically sprang to his feet, putting his hands together in a prayer pose. “Please, Cora! May I? I promise I won’t ask for anything else ever again!”

Then Jake made a humming sound, as if he were reconsidering. “The only problem is…”

My brother spun around to look down at Jake in alarm, his skinny body tense. “What problem?”

Jake looked regretful. “Well, I am concerned about today’s incident. Robotics is a very team oriented industry and I need to make sure everyone works well with others, even those who aren’t officially employed. And you being in a fight…” He paused and added softly, “Unless there are extenuating circumstances.”

I stared, wide-eyed, at the master tactician sitting in my living room. I didn’t know if I should be appalled at his manipulation or if I should applaud him.

Marcus dropped his eyes and shifted his weight. His hand rose to touch his purpling flesh and I winced at how swollen it looked.

I could see his logical brain weighing the options.

Finally, he blurted, “Evan Jones was making fun of me. I ignored him when he called me an orphan and when he made fun of my clothes, but then he said something bad about my mom and I punched him in the mouth.”

He snuck a peek at me and I tried to keep my face blank even though I wanted to howl and weep in sorrow. It hurt me deeply that my brother was being bullied. It was my fault that I hadn’t bought him better-fitting clothes earlier. It didn’t surprise me that the teasing about his wardrobe hadn’t pushed him to violence, but a negative comment about our mother did. Marcus worshiped our mom and on the heels of losing her just this year, he would have fought to the death to defend her memory.

Jake’s tone was measured, but his face darkened. “I see. That certainly puts a different perspective on things. I could understand the impulse because if someone said something unflattering about my mother, I’d want to punch his lights out too.”

Marcus’s posture visibly changed. He stood straighter and raised his head. “Really?”

“Really, but I would have kept my control and found a better way to exact revenge.”

Alarmed at the direction of the conversation, I piped up, “What Jake meant is that it’s better to maintain your dignity and walk away.”

I swore I felt both males roll their eyes at my Pollyanna statement, even though only Marcus did.

“No, what I meant was, there are better ways to get back at your enemies than to physically hurt them.”

“Like what?” Marcus plopped down on the floor and looked at Jake with rapt attention.

“Well, when someone in my life does something reprehensible, I crush them where it really hurts. Generally that’s their wallet.”

Marcus pondered this ruthless advice and I stood up abruptly. “Nobody is crushing anybody! Now what do you want to eat tonight?”

My brother looked up at me. “Can we have stir-fry?”

“Absolutely.” I smiled and bent down to pick up the bag of thawing peas.

Marcus turned to Jake. “Can you stay for dinner? Cora makes the best stir-fry!”

Shock held me immobile, my back bowed and my eyes level with my boss’s startled face. My mouth opened and closed wordlessly and I made a vague sound of distress in the back of my throat.

My dismay seemed to amuse Jake and his eyes were practically twinkling when he said, “If it’s not too much of an intrusion, I’d love to stay for your sister’s famous stir-fry.”

Marcus swung his gaze back to me. “He can stay, can’t he?”

Put on the spot, there was nothing to say except, “Of course.” My back straightened with a snap and I walked into the kitchen in a haze of confusion.

Why the hell did Jake say yes to dinner? He could easily have said he had dinner plans.

Chapter 7

As I cooked brown rice and chicken stir-fry, I found myself being unusually mindful about working with the ingredients. I told myself I wanted to cook a good meal for Marcus, but I knew I wanted to impress Jake. It was a laughable endeavor since this man probably had his own personal chef and dined frequently at Michelin star restaurants. His sophisticated palate was accustomed to steak tartar and foie gras and not to a simple dish made with whatever convenient ingredients I had on hand.

I looked over to the living room every now and then, but Jake and Marcus were intently involved in discussing the pros and cons of certain robotic features.

I shook my head, acknowledging that Jake was right about males and their toys. Not for one second did Jake look bored or impatient with Marcus. I never thought he would be so good with a teenager.

“Marcus, it’s almost time to eat. Could you please show Jake where to wash up?”

I heard him get up to fulfill my request and I turned off the stove. The smell of soy sauce and sesame seed oil permeated the air. I scooped up a few pieces with the spatula for a final taste and nodded with satisfaction at my effort. The chicken was tender and the broccoli was still fresh and crispy. I took out my mom’s china and plated the food.

Without being told, Marcus had already set out silverware and napkins and poured out drinks for everyone. Juice for him and water for me. Jake got a refill on his water. I patted his shoulder in thanks.