I closed the door and locked it behind me as Annika set her bag on the hall table and kicked off her shoes. She looked exhausted.
“I’m exhausted,” she said, and I smiled.
“Get some rest. I’ll wake you up in two hours.”
She nodded and headed for the stairs.
“Which room is yours?” I asked.
“Top of the stairs, next to the bathroom. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, and most of my paperbacks are on the bookshelf in the living room. Or you can watch TV, whatever.”
“Thanks.”
She paused with her hand on the rail, her face soft. “No, thank you. I really do appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Even if I didn’t actually want your help,” she added with a smile.
“That’s me. Helping out even when it’s unsolicited. What can I say? I’m a hero like that.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes, the sound crass and very unrefined. I loved it.
“Sleep tight, Annika.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Joel.” And then she turned and walked up the stairs.
Not even going to deny that I watched until she was out of sight.
I sighed and turned for the living room, taking stock. All the furniture was a mixture of modern and vintage, an eclectic collection. I’d figured her place would be sterile, clean and white, no color, but this place was soft and colorful without being loud. It looked lived in, comfortable. I remembered her saying that her cousin and her daughter lived with her. I wondered how old the little girl was until I saw a stuffed bunny on the couch. I couldn’t help but pick it up, the soft, wide corduroy a creamy grey, its button eyes stitched on and pink velvet ears worn with love.
I set it back down and looked around for the bookshelf, making my way over to kneel in front of the rows and rows of books. They were full of classics, a lot of hardbacks, from Ayn Rand to Dickens. But on their own shelf held standing by agate bookends, the swirl of the stone geometric and organic, stood her collection of hardback Jane Austen novels. I trailed my fingers over the spines, which were stamped in gold or silver with the titles. Pride and Prejudice was the one I knew everyone went for, but I decided on Persuasion, curious about a book that touched her, that shaped her.
I glanced at my watch and noted the time, settling into the couch to read, trying not to think about her sleeping just upstairs.
A very fat, very old calico appeared silently next to my legs, peering up at me with yellow eyes. Patches of orange and black were surrounded by white fur, and it had a black stripe on its face through its eye, which made it look like the Scarface of cats.
“Hey, there.”
It gave me a single meow and blinked, watching me.
I reached down and scratched its jaw, rubbing my thumb against its ear, and it leaned in. “Wonder what your name is.”
Meow, it said in response. I smiled and leaned back, and the cat hopped up, stretched out next to me, and went to sleep, purring.
I chuckled, comforted by the warm presence, and cracked open the book.
* * *
Hours went by, and I reveled in the absolute quiet, the city seeming far away from where I sat in Annika’s living room, insulated in the brownstone. I’d woken her once a few hours before — she was nestled in her bed with the curtains drawn, her face slack and soft. She looked like a girl like that, the hardness gone, her hair out of its tight bun and spread across her pillow like spun gold.
I’d almost touched her face, realizing at the last second just how intimate the gesture was, but I barely stopped myself, as if her skin begged to be touched. Instead I touched her arm, and she opened her eyes sleepily, said she felt fine, other than being tired still, and asked to sleep some more. So I obliged.
I checked my watch — it was time to wake her again, and this time I thought it might be best if she stay awake for a stretch, especially if she wanted to sleep that night. So I headed into the kitchen, looking around for the coffee pot, or a tea pot. They were right next to each other, along with a small box of tea, so I took it as a sign that it was a regular thing and filled up the electric teapot.
It was old and loud, the water hissing and bubbling as I searched for a coffee cup.
“Stop right there,” a hard, cautious, female voice said from behind me.
I put my hands up, though a mug with an illustrated monkey hung on my pointer finger. When I turned, I found a woman who looked like she could be Annika’s sister, leaning toward me with an outstretched hand wielding mace. A little girl peeked out from behind her with golden hair just like her mother, and blue eyes like ping pong balls, widened in fear.
“Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my kitchen?”
My hands were still up. “I’m Joel. Annika didn’t text you?”
Her brow dropped, but her hand didn’t. “No. Why?”
“She got a concussion at work.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, upstairs sleeping. Could you maybe lower the mace? I dunno if you’ve ever been maced, but it’s what I imagine hell feels like.”
“Oh, sorry.” She lowered the spray and extending her hand for a shake. “This is Kira, and I’m Roxy, Annika’s cousin.”
I took her hand. “Nice to meet you. Sorry for the confusion.”
She waved a hand and wrapped it around the little girl’s shoulders. “No, it’s okay. I’m glad you were here. I wonder why she didn’t call me?”
“Said she didn’t want to be a bother.”
Roxy rolled her eyes. “Of course she did. I’m surprised she even let you stay here with her.”
I smirked. “Me too, but I’m persistent.”
“You have to be, with her.”
The teapot dinged, and I turned to pour out a cup. “She drinks tea, yeah?”
“Yeah, she does. How long have you been here?”
I shrugged. “Since one or so, when we got back from the hospital.”
“And you’ve just been sitting here?”
“Reading, but yeah. Met your cat.”
One blond eyebrow rose. “Kaz?”
“That’s his name? I was wondering. He kept me company all day. Sweet cat.”
“Kazimir? Destroyer of peace? That cat is pure evil and hates everyone.”
I frowned. “Seriously? Because he just laid on me and purred for hours.”
She shook her head. “You must have some weird voodoo on you because the only people that old cat loves are Annika and Kira.”
The little girl nodded. “He wears dolly dresses for tea parties.”
Roxy made a face. “Yeah, and he pees in my closet. Oh, once? I came home and he’d shredded my feather pillow. He was sitting on my bed like a goddamn prince surrounded in goose down. Ublyudok.”
I recognized the word. “Bastard?”
She smirked. “She told you?”
“Lucky guess.” I picked up Annika’s tea. “Mind if I take this up to her?”
“Be my guest.”
“Thanks,” I said as I passed, though when I rounded the corner, I found a sleepy Annika shuffling down the stairs, hand pressed to her temple, wearing long sleeved button down white satin pajamas. She blinked at me and yawned.
“Nice jammies. Not a princess, huh?”
She made a face at me.
I approached her, meeting her at the foot of the stairs. “Made you some tea. Was just coming up to check on you.”
She smiled, but it was small, more closed than it had been before she’d gone up. “Thanks,” she said as she took the mug.
“So, Roxy came home just now and tried to mace me.”
Her eyes flew wide. “Oh, my God. I forgot to call her and tell her. I’m so sorry.”
“No worries, no harm done.”
“Good,” she said. We stood in silence for a moment.
“So, I should probably be going,” I said just as she said, “Well, thanks a lot for your help today.�
��
We both chuckled.
“I’m heading out. Let me know if you need anything, okay? You have my number.”
“Thanks, Joel.”
I smiled. “Sure thing. Glad you’re feeling better.” I turned to go, but stopped. “Oh, mind if I borrow Persuasion? I started reading it and thought, if it was okay, that I could hang on to it for a couple of days.”
She didn’t mask her surprise. “Yeah, of course,” she said, disbelieving.
“Thanks.” I made my way into the living room, grabbed the book from the couch, and walked back by. “See you tomorrow,” I said as I passed her, reaching for the door.
“Bye.” The word was unsure, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I pulled open the door and stepped into the New York dusk. Because I had a feeling that single word meant I actually had a chance.
Annika
Joel disappeared with the click of the front door, and when I stepped around the banister, I was met with Roxy’s smirk, which was practically accusing.
I wrapped my free hand around the warm mug and narrowed my eyes as I headed for the couch. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” she feigned innocence.
“Don’t start.”
“So I shouldn’t ask any questions about Tattoo Tommy and the Bearded Gun Show that just happened?”
I sat down and propped my feet on the coffee table. “I had a concussion, and he wouldn’t leave until you were home.”
“Chivalrous,” she said as she sat down next to me. “Who is he?”
“One of the shop owners. Hairy.”
Her face lit up. “Wait, that was Hairy? I pictured some balding guy with a ponytail and beer gut.”
“Nope, and that somehow makes it that much harder to hate him.”
“So is he the older brother or younger?”
“Older.”
“Is his brother as hot as he is?”
“If you think hairy, bearded, pushy scoundrels are hot, then yeah.”
She snorted. “Scoundrel. You’ve got to read something that takes place past the 19th century. Does he have a girlfriend?”
I glared at her, wondering why the thought made me want to pull her hair. “Who, Joel?”
Roxy laughed. “No, the brother. Joel’s clearly already spoken for.”
I frowned. “Shep has a girlfriend, yeah. And what do you mean spoken for?”
“God, for a smart person, you’re really dense. Why didn’t you tell me you had a thing for him?”
I huffed like a teapot. “I don’t have a ‘thing’ for him, Roxy.”
“Right, and having kids doesn’t ruin your boobs.” She gestured to her rack to illustrate.
“You’re one hundred percent wrong, Rox. I’m sure he’s a nice enough guy, but he’s not my type.”
“Exactly, which is what you need. Your type is boring. Safe.”
“What’s wrong with making safe choices? I don’t have a single thing in common with Joel Anderson.”
“Since when does that matter? I saw you looking at him, and I saw him looking at you — you practically set the curtains on fire. So don’t tell me you’re not into him because it’s a goddamn lie.”
I felt heat crawl up my neck and across my cheeks. “Would I bang him? Yes, I would. But I’m not going to because A: I’m his producer,” I ticked off on my fingers, “B: I’m not interested in a relationship with him, C: I’m not interested in ruining my career, and D …” I trailed off, still mad but unable to think of a fourth point.
She waggled her brows. “The D is the single reason why you will bang him.”
I fumed. “I’m not having sex with him, Roxy! Why are we even talking about this?”
“Because you’re in denial, Cleopatra. I’ve been there, where you are. You can’t ignore that kind of physical attraction, even if that’s all it is. I tried, which resulted in me getting knocked up.”
I opened my mouth to ask her who Kira’s father was, a secret guarded with her life apparently, in part because it kept me up nights wondering, but mostly to do whatever I could to take the heat off me.
She waved me off before I could speak. “Don’t even ask. We’re talking about you. You like him. Why won’t you admit it?”
“I just fucking did!” I almost yelled it, and Roxy made a face before looking over at Kira, who sat coloring at the table with her stuffed bunny sitting in her lap like he was watching.
“I just don’t get it. He’s obviously into you if he sat here all day with only Kaz to keep him company while he read a romance novel.”
“For the last time. I’m not interested in hooking up with him or dating him or even thinking about him outside of work. I didn’t ask him to stay. I didn’t want him here. I don’t want him to be into me, and I’m not into him. Okay?” I found that I was trying to convince myself just as much as I wanted to convince Roxy.
She was almost pouting, but in an angry way.
“End of story.” And I felt that was the absolute truth. I felt the desire for separation seep from my head down into my heart like roots of a tree. I was resolute, and when I made a decision like this, when I dug in my heels, I wouldn’t change my mind.
Roxy knew this, and said, frustrated, “If you say so.”
“I say so.”
“Then that’s that.”
“Yes, it is.”
“By the way,” she started before punching me in the arm.
“Ow—” I cried, but she was already talking.
“Why didn’t you call me? If you really didn’t want Hairy here, I could have come over.”
“Because you’re busy and I didn’t want to bother you.” I rubbed my arm. “That hurt.”
“Good. That’s for being presumptuous. Always call me, okay? You had a concussion for God’s sake, not period cramps.”
I chuckled. “All right. I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” she said, not elaborating, not needing to. I reached for her hand.
“I’m glad you’re okay and that Hairy was here to take care of you.”
“Thanks. Me too.”
“So, are you feeling okay now?”
“Better than earlier for sure. I feel like I should be hungry, but my stomach is a little tender. I just came down to see if Joel was still here and to try to get him to leave again.”
“I don’t think he would have.”
I sighed. “Me neither. You’re right about him being into me, and it’s not that he’s not … I mean, you’ve seen him.”
She laughed.
“But it’s just a bad idea.” My stomach clenched, though I pinned it on the concussion, not the thought of him and me doing the naked tango. “It can’t happen, and it won’t. But he’s … persistent.”
“Well, so are you, so I don’t doubt you’ll remain at an impasse forever. A couple of gluttons for punishment, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you, so feel free to keep it to yourself,” I half-joked.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. Want to watch TV?”
I yawned, surprised that I somehow still felt sleepy. “I think I’ll head back up and read for a bit before sleeping some more. I feel like I could sleep for a week, honestly.” I hauled myself off the couch and yawned again.
“Don’t forget your tea.”
I picked up the monkey mug and found myself smiling down at it. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Just text me if you need anything and I’ll bring it up.”
“Really, thanks, Rox.”
“Anything for you. Now go get yourself better, okay?”
I smiled a little wider. “Okay.”
The stairs creaked under my feet as I climbed them, and within a minute, I slipped back into bed, tea still steaming. He’d picked my favorite, jasmine tea, and I wondered if it was a coincidence or if he somehow knew I’d like it. I shouldn’t have been wondering about him at all. But I was. I wondered what he’d done all that time. Kaz jumped onto the bed and into my lap, curling up into a purring ball,
and I wondered about that too, how Kaz, the spawn of the Devil, would have befriended Joel. I wondered what Joel was doing just then, what he’d do for the rest of the night, when I’d see him again.
But those roots of decision wound around my heart and squeezed. Joel and I made no sense. He was charming and annoying and bossy and hairy and all wrong. He was everything I wasn’t. He was everything I’d tried to avoid in my life. He was the opposite of what I needed, of what fit into my plan. And that was exactly why I had to put him out of my mind, put him into a safe, lock it up, and throw away the key.
But even though my mind tightened up the reins, my heart whispered the assent, too soft for my mind to notice.
Chapter 6
WANG FEAST
* * *
Joel
* * *
“HOW DO MY BOOBS LOOK?”
I glanced over my shoulder with one eyebrow cocked, but Penny wasn’t talking to me. Her hair was hot pink this month, and it was all done up like a pinup girl. She shimmied around her breasts in her bustier, and Veronica laughed from the chair next to me in makeup, which used to be my stock room.
“They look perfect. Stop worrying.”
My makeup artist turned my face toward her and kept dabbing at me with a makeup brush.
“You have great eyes,” she said.
“Thanks. It’s genetic.”
She chuckled.
“I’m not really worried,” Penny continued. “Mostly excited. We’re gonna be on TV, Ronnie. Like, you realize we’re about to become a household name?”
I found myself frowning, that familiar apprehension winding through my guts.
“Maybe I’ll get a deal for my own line of makeup, like Kat Von D,” Penny mused. “Or hair dyes. You should get one for eyeliner, Ronnie. Nobody rules the cat-eye like you.”
Veronica chuckled. “One thing at a time, all right? We haven’t even started filming yet.”
“But we will today,” Penny sang. “Man, you also realize we’re about to have access to pretty much any man we want? It’s going to be a freaking man-buffet. A shlong smorgasbord. All-you-can-eat wang feast.”
Forbidden Desires Page 45
