Kyle laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

“How can a man live with somebody orchestrating his every move?”

“Are we talking about Katie or Sydney?”

“Katie’s helping Sydney. And we’re talking about women in general.”

“And your fear of them.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Then why are you freaking out over Sydney’s idea?”

Cole peered at his brother, squinting in the dying light of the sunset. “Are you seriously suggesting I marry a stranger and give her the Thunderbolt?”

“She’s from a museum, not some crime family. I’m only suggesting you hear her out.”

Katie appeared in the doorway, a big wooden salad bowl clasped in her hands. “Hear who out?”

“Sydney,” said Kyle.

“Oh, good,” said Katie. “We’re just in time.”

Sydney appeared behind her with a basket of rolls, and Cole did an involuntary double take. She’d removed her jacket and her silk, butter-yellow blouse highlighted the halo of her rich, auburn hair. Her rounded breasts pressed against the thin fabric, and a small flash of her stomach peeked out between the hem of her blouse and the waistband of her skirt.

“Can you open the wine?” Katie asked Cole.

“Uh, sure,” said Cole, with a mental shake, telling himself to quit acting like a teenager. He reached for the corkscrew.

“I was the high bid on Night-Dreams,” he said to his brother, not so subtly changing the direction of the conversation.

Kyle shot him a knowing grin but played along. “Planning to use Sylvester as a sire?”

Cole popped the cork on the bottle of merlot. “Come next spring, it’s the start of a whole new bloodline.”

After Sydney set the rolls down on the table, Cole automatically pulled out her chair. She accepted with a smile of thanks, and the scent of her perfume wafted under his nose.

“That reminds me,” said Kyle from the other side of the table. “I need your signature on a contract with Everwood.” He transferred the sizzling steaks from the grill to a wooden platter. “Gave me my price. He’ll take all the beef we can supply.”