Sexy in the City

by Alexia Adams, Galen Rose, Samantha Anne, Carolann Camillo, Nicole Flockton, Iris Leach, Olivia Logan, Nancy Loyan, Stephanie Cage (epub)

  “If you made the first move … ”

  “And upped the ante, you mean?”

  “That seems like a good start.”

  He moved away from the table. Two steps brought him close enough to Molly for her to get a good whiff of his aftershave. It hinted of sandalwood blended with a touch of juniper. His dark hair was tousled enough to give her heart a bump. She knew he didn’t need extra padding to fill out the shoulders of his suit jacket. Every bone, muscle, and sinew beneath it was built with expert precision.

  “I said I’d go to thirty.”

  “You did?”

  “That’s pretty much my top offer. You might pass that along to them. While you’re at it, remind them that, if I go up, they need to come down.”

  “You mean to ninety-five.”

  He shook his head. “Uh-uh. They’re going to have to make a bigger adjustment than that.”

  “Well, you’d better negotiate it. I’m not putting myself in the middle.”

  “You already are.”

  “I can’t bargain with you. Is that what you planned for Saturday? To trap me up in a balloon and hammer away over money?”

  He didn’t answer right away, which seemed to prove her point. The twelve fifty he’d bid was a future investment against a million dollar loss. Okay. She’d give him several hundred thousand dollars’ worth of opinion the second he brought up money.

  “Not at all. On Saturday we’ll just be two people out to have some fun.” He touched the tip of her chin with his bent finger, like he did the first time in her office. Now he kept it there longer. “You know how to have fun, Ms. Molly, don’t you?”

  She’d have liked to ask the same question of him but suspected she’d get that drowsy, sated, rolling around in the wild, king of the beasts look from him again. She kept her response to a simple yes. Which was just as well. The moment his finger made contact with her skin, her heartbeat went into quickstep.

  When he took his finger away, she didn’t have to ask herself if she liked it when he touched her. She did.

  “Okay. So we’re on for Saturday.”

  “You won’t bring up the situation with your tenants?”

  “Not even once. Let’s put anything that approaches finances off limits. Why ruin what may turn out to be a perfect day by dragging along any problems? Agreed?”

  “That will take an awful lot of restraint. Personally, I don’t think you can do it.” She’d bet her next ten paychecks on finances becoming the center of conversation. Why else would he want to corner her in a floating basket two hundred feet above the ground? At the very least, he’d try to use her as a go-between. What other interest could he have in her?

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll make a deal with you. If I mention anything along those lines, I’ll add a couple thousand dollars to the thirty I offered.”

  Restraint, to which she was no stranger, kept her mouth from doing another Lio imitation. Could she have been wrong about his motive when he outbid himself? Perhaps he just wanted to end the contention that seemed to grow between them. Should she trust that he spoke the truth? Hmmm.

  “I’m going to take that as a challenge.”

  He smiled. “I’m up for it.”

  “What if I broach it?” Or, just as importantly, the clinic. What better time to get a straight answer? While they admired the scenery, she could slip in a question as to whether or not he had any further expansion plans. Technically, it could be considered breaking his “no finance, no problems” rule, since the purchase of property involved money and the loss of the clinic would create a huge problem. Somehow, she’d find a way to skirt around the restriction.

  “Will you?”

  “I don’t … ah … expect to. If something slips out, though, what will you do, nick a couple thousand off the thirty?”

  He took another step forward. He moved with a rolling gait that brought her eyes to his hips, a spark of heat to her cheeks, and a stab of guilty pleasure into her heart. She dragged her gaze up to his.

  “There’s a word for people who promise something then back down. When I give my word, it’s solid.”

  “If I do. Slip, I mean. What then?”

  This time, he didn’t bother with a finger under her chin. He put his hands on either side of her face. “Trust me.” She smelled minty toothpaste on his breath. “I’ll find a way to puncture that balloon — and I don’t mean the one we’ll be drifting under — the second it lifts off the ground. Understand what I’m talking about?” His lids dipped and his lips remained parted. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her again and show her exactly what he was talking about.

  A brushfire claimed the skin under his hands and leaped down Molly’s throat and into her chest. She figured he’d have no trouble deflating whatever balloon she was foolish enough to launch. So it became vital for her to remember to use subtlety while giving the impression she held up her end of their bargain. Either she did it right or somewhere, as they floated over the treetops, her subconscious was liable to collide with his thought transference. She wouldn’t need Ouija to predict the outcome.

  Chapter 13

  Confident he knew every major thoroughfare and back street in San Francisco better than most other natives, Nick easily found Molly’s address. The house climbed three stories above a small neatly trimmed lawn that bordered a tree-shaded sidewalk and was painted pale blue, with raspberry and white trim under the eaves and around the windows. Spindled railings flanked the eight or so steps that led to a front door set back under a pediment. The Victorian features — slim columns bracketing windows, latticework, and the intricately carved open designs set into the upper corners of a small second floor porch — whizzed straight to his builder’s heart. One day he wouldn’t mind owning one like it. He priced the house easily at a couple of mil.

  Molly’s Chevy hugged the curb in front. He found a spot three doors down with barely enough room to fit his hybrid. He cut the motor but stayed behind the wheel.

  He’d arrived ten minutes early despite taking the time to rip into the box of corn flakes and carton of milk his mother had brought over the previous evening, along with a basket that bulged with fruit. The fruit would stay in the refrigerator until the next time she dropped over. He’d been healthy all his life in spite of shunning fruit and vegetables, even as a kid. You’d think by now his mother would have given up. Fruit didn’t come anywhere close to what he needed. What he needed was something his mother couldn’t provide. He thought of Molly. Was he pumped? Sure. Molly was attractive and bright — and his for the day. She had plenty of sex appeal, too, made even more potent since she seemed unaware of it. Embers smoldered under a controlled outer shell. He’d brought them close to the surface once and wouldn’t mind trying for a full-fledged conflagration. Would she let him? He looked forward to finding out.

  When he’d talked with her after the auction, he’d gotten the impression she might have started to weaken. She’d warned him about Serk and encouraged the tenants to negotiate with him. A small step but at least it headed in the right direction and didn’t cost him anything. Maybe the hundred thou wasn’t chiseled in stone. Maybe she’d taken a harder look at his side of the problem and understood it better. For all he knew, she was one of those bleeding hearts out to save the world. Maybe he could bring her around to wanting to save him.

  The apartment house wasn’t the first time he had to deal with tenants. He’d faced the same situation three years ago in the Outer Mission. Forget twenty-five thousand. He’d offered fifteen and the tenants had grabbed it and were out in a week. He’d expected the same thing this time. He’d never considered himself naïve. Anything but. Savvy, informed, and well aware of what was happening around him was a more accurate assessment.

  Now he regretted that he’d volunteered to put the impasse with his tenants off limits. All mornin
g, he’d asked himself the same question: Why had he decided to take the high road? When she’d asked if he intended to hammer away at her during the balloon ride, he’d thought shit yes, then quickly denied it. The truth wouldn’t have gotten him in the same county with her, no less in a floating basket. He wanted her ear — and, okay, a little more — maybe a lot more — but why kill his best opportunity? Yeah, that wasn’t his smartest move. He needed Molly to convince his tenants to come down out of the stratosphere and onto solid ground. Even if they roasted an ox for him in the space alongside his trailer, he couldn’t move up much further than the thirty K. She could persuade them to accept his offer. Today would have been perfect to work a little magic on her.

  But a deal was a deal. He couldn’t go back on his word. He’d have to use a little creativity.

  He snapped off his seat belt and flexed his arm muscles. When he moved his head in a circular motion, he heard the joints crack. He hadn’t slept well. Last night he’d spent several hours parked in the spot where the surveillance guy should have been watching the condos. Except, he’d fired him on Monday.

  Nothing had happened at the construction site to cause him concern, so at two in the morning, he’d dragged his tired body home and crawled into bed. But he couldn’t fall asleep. As soon as he hit the sheets, he’d started to think about Molly. He pictured her long legs and then slowly dragged his tired eyes up from there. Although near exhaustion, he’d had no trouble when he mentally peeled her clothes off and ran his hands over every part of her. Touching her in places he knew she’d never let him. The problem with that was, his body had started giving him a message: either jerk off or go to sleep. Solo sex had never appealed to him so he’d chosen the latter. Now his body gave the impression he’d been on a two-day binge. Being less than one hundred percent could shoot his creativity all to hell.

  He shook his head in hopes it would revive him. Then he climbed out of the car, shoved the keys into a front pocket of his jeans, and walked the short distance to her house. It was one of the better examples of Victorians in the city. It commanded his attention again, and he paused a few more moments to admire it.

  A wrought iron gate met him at the foot of the stairs. He fumbled with the lever, pulled the gate open, and climbed up to the small front porch. A brass plate built into a side wall held two doorbells alongside an equal number of name slots. Hewitt was printed on the top one and the name Grandy below it. Probably the aunt occupied two floors.

  The door swung open before he had a chance to ring Molly’s bell. A woman dressed in a yellow halter top, knee-length pink shorts, and cowboy boots stood in the filtered light. Two long gray-flecked braids hung from her head like thick ropes rubber-banded above frayed edges. Willie Nelson in drag came to mind.

  “Hi, you must be Nick. I’m Molly’s Aunt Vi. Come on inside. She’s running late.”

  He pulled off his sunglasses and hooked them on the neck of his T-shirt. Then he followed her into a foyer where an oak combination coat rack and metal umbrella stand occupied one wall. Even to his untrained eye, the piece looked like an expensive antique. A staircase led to the second floor. He followed Molly’s aunt and entered what he assumed was the downstairs part of her living quarters.

  Apparently, she was a huge fern fan. They dangled in beaded slings from every corner of the living room. A couple more hung in muted sunlight that spread in through a pair of windows. A huge macramé owl, perched on a yard-long branch, took up most of the opposite wall. Enough candles to set the neighborhood on fire, if anyone was crazy enough to light them all at once, occupied a coffee table. Another table held a hookah and a crystal ball.

  Holy shit. This was the woman who raised Molly.

  “Have a seat.” She pointed to a brown overstuffed sofa that looked as if it could swallow a small person. He sank down into it and wondered if he’d need a lifeline to haul himself back up.

  “Let me find you something to drink.”

  She spun out of the room before he had a chance to forestall her and returned a minute later with two glasses of something yellow. He hoped it was only lemonade. Probably a tree half the height of the house grew in the backyard and provided Molly and her aunt with enough vitamin C to ward of any forthcoming plagues. The two of them should get together with his mother sometime. On second thought, maybe not. She handed him a glass.

  “Do you live in the city?” Vi eased into a plump companion chair.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You rent, correct?”

  “Yeah.” His gaze strayed to the crystal ball. Nah.

  “Do you play poker?”

  “Excuse me?” He put his free hand on his knee and leaned forward.

  “Do you play cards?”

  “Not too often.” Occasionally, he played gin rummy with his father. He took a sip of his drink and his lips puckered. Apparently, he was in a sugar-free zone. An organic garden probably flourished behind the house as well.

  “That’s the reason Molly’s late this morning. She overslept. We had one heck of a poker game here last night. It didn’t break up until midnight. Molly was the big winner. She cleaned my daughter and me out.”

  Yeah, he already knew she was pretty skillful at relieving people of their money. “How much did she win?”

  “Plenty. The last pot had a buck forty in it. She won it with a straight flush. Drew an inside card, too.”

  “That was luck.” Chunky ice cubes, the kind produced by metal trays, filled his glass. His hand began to freeze. He looked around for a place to set down his drink.

  “Partly luck. It also took some skill.”

  No wonder Molly was so good at stonewalling. What was she, some sort of card shark? He did a quick recalculation on how long it might take him to lure her away from his tenants and onto his team. Did he have that much time?

  “Of course, she snagged three of the four wild cards. When that happens, no one else has a chance.”

  Wild cards. He smiled.

  “Hi, Nick.”

  Molly stood in the open doorway and held a cellophane-wrapped food basket cradled in her arms. Her hair fluffed out from her head in a mass of soft, copper curls. She wore a yellow, orange, and white flowered sundress with narrow shoulder straps and red buttons down the front. Her toenails were painted the same cherry red that matched the shade on her lips and fingernails. It showed off well with her flat-heeled sandals. The little white jacket she carried didn’t seem like it would do much to keep her warm two hundred feet above the ground. Maybe if she shivered from the chill, she’d let him hold her in his arms. Then maybe he’d get lucky and find out if her lipstick tasted like cherries. Just imagining it signaled an anatomical wakeup call. Jeez, and in front of the aunt. What the hell am I thinking?

  “Hello, Molly.”

  He had only one chance to haul himself out of the sofa or come across like an incompetent ass. It occurred to him to knock off a few candles and park his drink on the coffee table. Instead, he flexed his leg muscles, tightened his grip on the glass, and put enough energy into his movement to propel himself up and out of the beast’s embrace.

  Molly stepped into the room.

  “Very good.” She grinned. “You didn’t spill a drop. It takes most people at least three tries to spring up out of that thing.”

  “It’s all in the legs.” He tried not to sound smug as if he performed an Olympic feat.

  A few steps brought him close enough to touch her, which he had the sense not to do. She smelled faintly of apricots. He breathed in the scent. Then he remembered he was supposed to be a gentleman and not out to seduce her.

  “Here, let me hold that.” He took the food basket out of her arms.

  Her aunt stood up with no trouble, but then he figured she had years of practice extricating herself from the furniture. As she relieved him of his glass, she gave her niece a tiny nod. Mo
lly frowned. He assumed all the facial maneuvering had something to do with him.

  Chapter 14

  “My aunt’s a bit eccentric,” Molly said once they reached the sidewalk.

  “Yeah, I noticed. It doesn’t seem to have rubbed off on you, though. Or maybe you have your own crystal ball.”

  “That’s only for show.”

  Nick put his hand on her lower back and started to steer her toward his car. “And the hookah?”

  “Oh, that. She claims she hasn’t smoked anything illegal since the Summer of Love.” Molly looked out at the street in both directions. Then she spotted the N MAN 1 license plate. “Where’s the limo?”

  “I canceled it. I hope you don’t mind.” Nick fished his car keys out of his pocket.

  “Not in the least. I’m not into limos. Actually, I don’t go in for most kinds of formal stuff.”

  “Yeah, neither do I. I didn’t think you did, either. So I took a chance.” He popped the trunk and set the food basket inside.

  Once in the car with the motor running and the cool air flowing, he turned toward her. “I’m pretty casual. So we have at least two things in common.”

  “Two?” She hadn’t thought they had anything in common.

  He put his hand on the edge of her seat back. “The other is something I’m not allowed to mention.”

  “Wha … ” Then she got it. “Oh. You mean the ten … But we’re on opposite sides.”

  “Not really.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Well … ” He paused and then shook his head. “No, we made a deal. I had to remind myself all morning not to head there. I woke up a few times last night and wondered if I’d be a few thousand dollars poorer at the end of the day.” He shrugged.

  “It was on your mind all night?”

  “Along with one or two other things that were a lot more pleasant.”

  “It’s not worth losing sleep over.” He did seem a bit less animated than usual. “I mean, if you should happen to sort of unconsciously mention … you know what … well, I don’t want you to spend the whole day worrying.” Especially since I intend to somehow find a way to mention my own you know what.