Nick pretended to think for a minute. “That I'm the better-looking brother and you'll never surpass me?”

“Something is wrong with you. Can you take the boys or not?”

“Sure, I'll take the kids. Just stay away from Raina. She was hitting on me the last time I saw her. She doesn’t care where she gets it from as long as the guy is rich.”

“Would you keep your voice down? She’ll hear you.”

Jackson glanced down the hall at the closed guest room door. He’d shown Raina to the room an hour ago and hadn’t heard a peep from her since. She was probably sleeping, but still. They weren’t far from her room and his brother wasn’t exactly being quiet.

“Whatever. Stacey might not even mind if we just hang out at the arcade or something so the boys can play. Think it’ll get me brownie points for being such a good uncle?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Well, it can’t hurt.”

“Come on, guys. Grab your stuff. We’re going to the arcade,” Nick called.

Jackson went into the boys’ closet and pulled out a small backpack for Jase. He put his favorite pajamas in it, a handful of training pants and three sets of clothes, just in case he had an accident. “Jase, remember to use the potty at Uncle Nick’s house, okay little man?”

Jase nodded solemnly at him, without removing his thumb from his mouth.

“Yes, please do. Because Uncle Nick hates changing diapers.” Nick sent Jackson a foul look before turning to help Chris put his stuff into a duffel bag.

Jackson hugged Jase and then Chris, running his hands over their tight curls affectionately. All of his brothers and his parents took the boys overnight regularly so he knew they’d have a good time. It gave the boys a fun night out and it gave him a much needed break. It was a luxury that many single parents didn’t have. He was so lucky to have his family nearby to help him and he appreciated them more than they knew.

“Okay little guys, let’s roll.”

Chris raced down the hallway while Jase followed quietly, clutching his Elmo backpack tightly to his chest.

Nicholas gave him a mock salute. “I’ll leave you to do your good deed. Just remember what I said about Raina. Don’t let her get her hooks into you. That girl is a vulture.”

*   *   *   *   *

“HI.”

Ridley watched as Jackson spun around. Her fingers tightened around the bag of laundry she’d taken from her backpack. She’d been about to come ask him if he minded her using his washing machine when she’d overheard his conversation with his brother.

That girl is a vulture.

Asshole.

In a way it was almost a relief to know that her initial assessment had been correct. In her experience, people weren’t nice for no reason. Plenty of guys thought nailing a supermodel was something to brag about. But why would his brother be warning him away from her? Unless Jackson and her sister had some sort of history. Maybe they’d dated previously and his brother didn’t approve? Well, if Jackson thought he was getting in her pants this weekend he was in for a rude surprise.

Or a swift kick in the balls.

“You said to make myself at home so I thought I could throw a few things in the laundry, if you don’t mind.” It took everything inside her not to throw the bag at his head.

“Of course. Feel free to use whatever you need. It’s not as ritzy as what you’re used to, I’m sure. I’ve been here a year but I haven’t really gotten everything organized yet.”

“I don’t need ritzy. Contrary to what most people think, models don’t just show up for a few hours, get paid and then go party. You’re holding weird positions for long periods of time and call times are at the butt-crack of dawn to get the best light.”

Ridley stopped and took a deep breath. Correcting people’s stereotypes about modeling wasn’t something she normally bothered with but after hearing his brother call her a vulture, she was already on edge.

You don’t have to like this guy. You’re just using him for his air conditioning.

Jackson held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you don’t work hard. I’ve seen a few of your billboards lately. You’re becoming a household name.”

Ridley nodded, her hostility meter going down a few notches. “Thanks. It’s what I’ve been working toward for years.”

Even though they hadn’t been as close lately, nothing could stop her pride at her sister’s success. She’d been there in the early years when Raina had done ads for toothpaste and painkillers. She’d been disappointed along with her when she’d been turned down for casting call after casting call because she wasn’t the “All-American” girl they were looking for. Code for “not blonde enough.”

Women of color had always had a hard time in the modeling industry and Raina had been no exception. However, instead of accepting it, she’d done something unprecedented. While living in Washington, D.C. she’d started a style blog called “Legs” and modeled clothing for small fashion designers for free. Every week she’d featured an outfit by a different designer and then shown photos of herself wearing it on the streets and to trendy restaurants. Before long her blog had a cult following, and everyone wanted to know what she was wearing.

The modeling industry hadn’t wanted her initially so she’d gone out and created her own industry. People looked at Raina as just another model but the truth was that she was an entrepreneur. An incredibly savvy one at that.