by Jo Leigh
Every part of her deflated. Even the idea of her genuine New York City bagel couldn’t penetrate the feeling of doom that came over her. “I knew it was going to be expensive, but Wes was so sure his friends would be able to help us find something reasonable. I should have done my own research. That absolute swine. I think he lied about everything.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Two years. We met at an entrepreneurial workshop at the University of Missouri. A year earlier I’d graduated with a degree in business management, and he has a marketing degree with a minor in information systems. Unless he lied about that, too.”
“Sounds like you would have made a great team.”
“That’s what I thought.” She held up both hands. “Surprise!”
“If I could, I’d find him and rough him up for you.”
“Thank you. That’s a very tempting offer.” April smiled, then let a whimper slip. “And how have I repaid you for being so nice? I have a feeling you had your bed put in the small room we cleared in the back. I’m so sorry.”
“It fits. So, no problem.”
“I had no idea that... I mean you told me last night you were moving in and I didn’t even stop to think—”
“April—”
“I was so angry with Wes and worried about what I was going to do.” She shook her head and tried to slow her breathing.
“April?”
“You should’ve kicked me out last night. I would’ve deserved it but I also would’ve landed on my feet, because that’s who I am. I don’t give up easily or—”
“April.” He reached across the table and captured her hand.
She stopped fidgeting and swallowed. “What?”
His big, tough hand was surprisingly gentle. Even though she could feel a callus on his palm, it was still a beautiful hand: long, elegant fingers with neatly clipped nails.
April’s brain made an easy leap to the image of him from earlier: shirtless, his chest, his shoulders and back bronzed with just the right amount of muscle. He had hair—not too much—sprinkled across his chest and tapering down his flat stomach. Someone could quiz her on the details of his body and she’d pass with flying colors.
They were looking at each other, neither of them saying anything. His eyes seemed darker than before and he wasn’t glancing away.
April picked up the glass of water the waitress had left and took a sip. “Anyway, I really just wanted you to know I’m sorry and that I’ll be out by tonight.”
Luca finally let go of her hand. “What happened to your offer to help?”
“That was before I realized what a selfish jerk I was being.”
“And you remedy that by reneging on our agreement?”
She studied the hard set of his jaw. He looked serious, but he couldn’t be. “Do you understand what I’m saying? I’ll be out of your hair. For good.” The thought made her breath catch. “You’ll be able to move your bed and TV upstairs and—” April lost steam. “Luca, you’ve been incredibly understanding and wonderful to me. I can’t... I won’t impose on you any longer.”
“I had no problem understanding you, but thanks for breaking it down,” he said, sounding pissed. “And what I’m telling you is—”
“I don’t believe you. Okay? That’s the bottom line. You’re only saying you need my help to be nice.”
“Ah. Okay.” He nodded, leaning back, the picture of calm. “Let’s assume you’re correct. That I’m the great guy you seem to think I am. So how do you think I’d feel about turning you out in a strange city, with little money and no place to go when I have a perfectly good room to offer you?”
“Something’s wrong with that logic,” April muttered, digging around in her head and coming up short.
“Yeah? Well, it seems logical to me.”
He waited for her reply and when she kept quiet, he said, “Look, I’ll be back at my job tomorrow, and working on the apartment in the evenings. If you need a few extra days to find a place, it’s okay with me.”
“Okay,” she said finally. “If you’re sure.” He really did sound genuine. “I honestly don’t mind helping out. I can clean, paint—I’ve done a lot of painting and light construction before. You can ask me to run errands. Pretty much anything you need. I’m a hard worker. You can count on it. And don’t worry, I’ll spend every spare minute looking for a place to live.”
“I can tell you mean it, and I will ask you to help out.”
“Great. I appreciate it so much. I, uh, I’ll need to get a phone book, and find a place to get online. Any recommendations?”
“I’ve got Wi-Fi. I’ll give you the password. As long as you don’t go streaming Netflix movies, we’ll be okay.”
She wanted to hug him. Even if he was just being nice because he felt sorry for her. She’d find a way to make it up to him once she was established. Their food arrived, and for a moment, despite everything, she just wallowed in the pleasure of her bagel.
She knew Luca was watching her spread the bounty of cream cheese on her bagel. Probably laughing at her.
“You don’t understand,” she said. “Where I live, which is a minuscule town outside St. Louis, bagels come from the bread aisle, and even when you do find a restaurant that serves them, they give you this tiny little scoop of cream cheese. It’s nothing like this.”
She took her first bite. The rich creaminess did a better job of waking her up than the coffee had. Taking her time, she savored each chew and ignored the amusement on Luca’s face.
“I take it your expectations have been met.”
After she swallowed, she said, “I’m going to gain so much weight here. I’ll have to run ten miles a day.”
He laughed out loud. “I have a feeling you’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Well, I’m pretty determined. And kind of sickeningly optimistic. Which probably makes me the mark of the century. God, I still can’t believe—”
He found her hand again and covered it with his.
His touch made her tremble inside, which she did her best to stop. Yes, he was gorgeous. Yes, he was being amazingly kind to her, and yes, it was tempting to turn to him for every bit of help she needed, but she wasn’t going to. Evidently, she didn’t know the first thing about choosing men who could be trusted. She’d be a first-class moron for believing Luca was everything he appeared to be.
“My recommendation? Let it go. I know that sounds like a ridiculous suggestion. That ass has thrown you a curveball that would send most people into therapy. But I already know you can do more than most people. That you’re strong, willing to work, smart and not afraid. Center your focus on the next step, and even though it’s tempting, don’t let what he’s done slow you down.”
She blinked at him, momentarily forgetting the bagel in her hand, the coffee steaming in her cup, the eggs growing colder by the second. “You must come from a very strong family.”
He moved his hand and picked up his fork. “What makes you say that?”
“You sound so levelheaded and normal. Listening to you talk to those guys earlier, I gather you’re part of a family business. So, you had a pretty good childhood, then?”
He nodded. “Did you?”
She took another bite of her bagel, because she wasn’t sure how much to tell him about herself. She had a tendency to spill everything to anyone who would listen, but that didn’t feel very smart to her anymore. “Yes. My family is great. We’re close, and for one reason or another, everyone always ends up back at my parents’ house. Not me. I can make it on my own. I have a great business plan, and I’ll figure out a way to get out of this mess I’m in. You just watch. I will.”
“I believe you,” he said with quiet sincerity.
It brought a lump to her throat, and then she reminded herself that she didn’t know L
uca at all. Instinct told her he was a good guy. But after yesterday, she knew she couldn’t even trust herself, much less anyone else. The only thing she was sure of was that he was a smooth talker. And far too hot. Her hand still tingled from where he’d touched her, which was a warning sign as big as Times Square.
“I realize I’m in no position to ask for another favor,” she said slowly, and he looked up from his plate, the expression in his eyes making it clear he thought she had some nerve. “But I’m going to, anyway.”
He put his fork down and waited.
“When we’re working together in the apartment, could you, um, please wear a shirt?”
7
LUCA HAD HOPED to sleep in longer. But he’d forgotten to cover the window of his temporary bedroom, so the morning sun had interrupted a very pleasant dream that had unfortunately starred his sexy upstairs guest.
Maybe he shouldn’t have been so generous with his apartment, but it was only for a few days. He believed April meant to charge full speed ahead, and she certainly didn’t seem like a quitter, but it wouldn’t surprise him if she ended up going back to St. Louis within a week. In the meantime, it would be in his best interest to get any ideas of sex out of his head when she was around. Neither of them needed that complication. It would be inexcusable for him to take advantage of her, anyway.
What he needed to do was think about Jillian. And get rid of his hard-on. Quickly.
Not even a minute in, and his stupid brain turned the channel back to April. As he’d first seen her. The consequences of which had put him in quite a dilemma. Since he was going to gut the bathroom on this floor, he hadn’t done anything about the broken shower, so the only full bath available was the one upstairs. But April was in the bedroom next to the bathroom, and he wasn’t going to risk waking her at this ungodly hour.
Which left him with a hard Johnson, a twitching hand and a potential mess.
He could let his erection wither on the vine, and think good, clean thoughts until the problem disappeared...
Yeah, not a chance. He hadn’t heard any signs that April was awake yet and she had no reason to come down to this floor so early. And even if she did, well, she was a woman of the world now. A New Yorker. At least for the time being. She’d handle it.
With the image of April in her underwear firmly in mind, it didn’t take long for things to come to a conclusion. It occurred to him that one of the reasons he was letting her stay was so that she could help him get the place ready for his date on Thursday night. With beautiful, sexy Jillian. Who hadn’t crossed his mind once while he’d...well. That didn’t mean anything. And he sure as hell didn’t feel guilty about it, either. Not after April’s request that he keep his shirt on. The memory of that hadn’t gotten old yet, and still made him grin.
Wincing as he stood up in the sweats he’d slept in, he quickly gathered some clothes and toiletries, and made a quick trip through the work area and locked himself inside his bathroom, where he freshened up at the sink. Finally dressed, he headed straight for the coffeemaker he’d bought yesterday and prepared himself a pot.
While the coffee brewed, he made a trip to the corner bodega and picked up a New York Times and a bottle of orange juice. Since he had a little time before he had to be at work, he settled into his recliner, turned on ESPN and drank the first cup of his own coffee in his new place.
By the time he got to the sports section, he heard a sound. Several sounds. Louder than they should have been.
It was as if April’s footsteps had a direct conduit from the room upstairs to his ears. No wonder her screams had made him think she was so close. The insulation in the ceiling hadn’t been replaced yet, and man, it needed to be. The toilet flush was quickly followed by the sound of the shower turning on. He’d put out a mug for her, assuming she’d want coffee, but since he didn’t want to think any more about what she was doing upstairs, he went back to reading about his beloved Giants.
Not ten minutes later, he heard her again. Talking. To her mother. He needed to tell April that he could actually hear her. Well, not everything she said. It seemed dependent on where, exactly, she was standing at the moment. Her “Hi, Mom” had been loud and clear, though, and so was her, “Everything’s great!”
He understood the lie, but it made him feel bad that she needed to lie at all. It wasn’t his problem, however, and he wasn’t about to make it any part of his business. Despite the fact that he was giving her a break until she could get on her feet again. The rest of what she said was indistinguishable, but he did hear her laugh—twice, which was good.
He’d really hoped to get to talk to her before he had to leave—particularly so he could mention the noise issue—but when he looked at the scores scrolling across the bottom of the TV screen, his gaze drifted to the time. He needed to get to the Chinatown job site. Pronto.
He put on his steel-toed boots and his jacket then grabbed his hard hat before he went back to the kitchen. No way would he make it all morning on one coffee. Tonight he’d have to dig around and find his to-go cups. He’d done some more packing at his parents’ house yesterday and brought a few more boxes back with him.
As he reached for a mug for his coffee, April’s voice drifted through the ceiling. “What do you mean, he’s gone to California? We have an appointment tomorrow. I’m just calling to confirm.”
Luca winced. Poured himself a half a cup that he tried to drink too quickly, burning his tongue.
“Well, the appointment was with me, not Wes Holland. Right. Thanks, anyway.”
Shit, that girl could not catch a break.
Just as he’d taken the last swig of his coffee, the pacing upstairs picked up and an astonished-sounding, “How much?” was followed quickly by an octave-higher, “Per month?”
Guess she hadn’t believed him. But New York had a way of becoming real very quickly.
The next thing he heard was footsteps on the staircase. Seeing April in her skinny jeans and tucked-in short-sleeved blouse gave him an inconvenient jolt. Just to change the trajectory of his thoughts he almost made a joke about rental rates in the city, but she looked as though one more blow would have her in tears. “Go ahead,” he said. “Have some coffee.”
Her smile had him clearing his throat, which reminded him he needed to leave. The job wasn’t that far away, but he wanted to be first on site, and it was still possible if he took his Harley.
“There are bagels on the counter. Help yourself.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” she said, eyeing his clothes and boots, her expression worried. “You’re supposed to tell me what I can do for you.”
“Nothing right now.”
“Two hours of putting down tarps and moving things around didn’t cut it by a quarter. If there’s anything else you can think of, please let me know.”
“I’ve got nothing at the moment,” he said as he instantly thought of something completely inappropriate. “Keep apartment hunting for today, and we’ll talk tonight. Anyway, I’m running late. But good luck.”
The last thing he heard was, “Thanks, I’m going to need it.”
* * *
THE PLACE WAS a sty. The ad had been for a roommate in a one-bedroom apartment. What it hadn’t mentioned was that there were already two people living in the 500-square-foot apartment, and the available sleeping spot was a mattress on the floor next to a messy closet. The carpet looked as if it was original to the century-old building and it didn’t appear to have been vacuumed. Ever. Still, they were asking $1000 a month. It was enough to make her want to go back to St. Louis and sleep in the barn behind her parents’ house. She guessed she wouldn’t be looking at places in Manhattan anymore.
Her next stop was in the ritzy Upper East Side neighborhood. Barkingham Palace was an upscale doggy day care and pet salon. It was bright and airy, with aisles devoted to every kind of pet accesso
ry known to man, but the main attraction was the canine clientele. The business housed a spacious area in the back where she spotted a teacup poodle, a Chihuahua, a couple of big Labs and a pair of Rottweilers among half a dozen other pooches.
“April?”
“Mr. Trowbridge?” She recognized him instantly from their conversations over Skype. He was a stocky guy in his midforties, with a smile that had won her over immediately. She had to be careful now with what she said. No way could she tell him about Wes. Not until she had another plan in motion. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.”
He shook his head as he dried his hands. “Call me Alec. You’re pretty as a picture. Now, let me give you the tour. It’ll have to be fast, though. Lena’s out sick today. She’s one of our dog washers.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I hope it’s nothing serious.”
He frowned but shrugged. “She twisted her ankle. Come meet Boone. He’s my right-hand man, makes sure we have all our dogs fed according to their owner’s instructions and that playtime is well supervised so no one gets too rambunctious. You’ll get to know him as he’ll work directly with you when our clients are in need of personal services.”
God, she hoped so.
They reached the gate leading to the play area. Boone looked to be a little older than she, and very buff, with reddish hair shaved on the sides and styled on top.
“Hey,” he said, holding out his hand. “Boone Reardon.” His smile was easy but his inspection of her was a little less casual.
She made their handshake brief.
Alec introduced her, and Boone’s attitude shifted when he realized she wasn’t a client. But it was the way the dogs treated him and vice versa that elevated her opinion of the guy.
Their next stop was the front desk. Angela and Chrissy, also wearing the shop’s T-shirts, were both studying at the City College of New York and were cheerful and eager to be of help—exactly the type of people she would want to hire for her business.
“Alec told us about your service,” Chrissy said after she’d rung up a rather extensive wardrobe for a midsize beagle. “I know some people at school who’d be interested. You should come hang out at the student center. I can’t guarantee who’ll show up, but at least you can leave some brochures or whatever.”
