Love on Lexington Avenue

by Layne, Lauren

  And yet, seeing Claire’s face when she’d learned that he’d come with Ivet didn’t feel harmless. And when Ivet had plastered her body against his while waiting for the elevator in her hotel, it had been Claire’s body he’d been thinking about. Claire’s curves, Claire’s softness.

  Ivet was good company, but he’d never craved being around her. Not like he did with Claire, who somehow both calmed and excited him. He didn’t even know what he wanted from her, he only knew that he wanted to be near her. He couldn’t escape the feeling that they had unfinished business, that tonight, for the first time, she’d been aware of him the way he was of her . . .

  He turned off Lex onto Seventy-Third, a little surprised that the neighborhood he’d belittled just a few weeks ago was starting to grow on him. Hands in his pockets, feeling light in a way he couldn’t remember feeling since back before he’d known his fiancée was cheating on him, Scott half jogged the last few steps to Claire’s house, hoping she’d be there so they could talk—

  Scott drew up short.

  Claire was here all right. She was standing on her front porch, face tilted up to a blond guy who had his hands on her waist, unmistakably a prekiss pose.

  Scott froze for a full ten seconds, trying to sort through the unfamiliar surge of something that ripped through him. He didn’t begrudge her this. He didn’t. And yet . . .

  She jerked back from the blond guy, her eyes going wide as she saw him at the bottom of the steps. “Scott? What’re you—Did you forget something at the house?”

  Scott wasn’t prone to taking shortcuts or easy outs—ever—but he took one now. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry, thought you’d still be at the gala, I was just going to grab— Never mind. It can wait until Monday. Sorry to interrupt.”

  “But—”

  Scott didn’t let her finish. He turned and headed back down the street, feeling like the world’s biggest fool.

  Chapter Fourteen

  WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 28

  How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t see it until it’s finished? You’ll just meddle and make it worse.”

  Claire jumped at Scott’s sharp bark and turned around, more than a little ready to bark right back.

  “I wasn’t going to creep on your precious kitchen, which is actually my kitchen,” she said, gesturing to the opaque tarp that kept the under construction kitchen hidden from view. “I was just going to adjust the AC because it feels like the arctic in here.”

  “Don’t blame the AC for that,” he muttered, stomping toward the unit in the window and turning it down.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He started to brush past her without replying, but she snagged his flannel sleeve, and it made her mad that she didn’t dislike the fabric as much as she once had.

  “What’s that mean?” she repeated, tired of being ignored for the past two days. Things had been almost unbearably tense between them since Saturday night, and in true man fashion, he hadn’t seemed to want to acknowledge it until now.

  Scott sighed in annoyance. “It means that you’ve been putting off ice-princess vibes for days.”

  “Oh, I’m the problem? You’ve barely said two words to me since you stopped by on Saturday night because you forgot something.”

  “I apologized for that. For the interruption.”

  Claire took a breath for patience. “I don’t want you to apologize; I want to know what’s wrong so things can go back to normal. What the heck is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” He pulled his sleeve away.

  Claire gathered her courage.

  “You’re being unfair,” she said to his back. “And hypocritical.”

  Slowly he turned around, face unreadable. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that you can hook up with Ms. Supermodel whenever it suits you, but I can’t bring a guy home.”

  “I don’t give a shit who you bring home. I just stopped by—”

  “To get your cooler. I know. I’m sure that really necessitated a one a.m. visit on a Saturday night.”

  “What do you want me to say, Claire? I’m sorry if I ruined your night. It wasn’t my intention.”

  “You ruined my night far before then.”

  Well, crap. That was not supposed to have come out.

  Scott frowned. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  This time it was she who tried to brush by without responding, but as she had with him, he grabbed her arm and held her fast. “Tell me. How did I ruin your night?”

  She looked away, not wanting to have this conversation. She’d thought the way she and Scott had been circling each other, icing each other out ever since he’d seen her with Brett was bad. But this was worse.

  She couldn’t bring herself to answer his question. She wasn’t ready to tell him that their dance on Saturday night, their conversation, and the feel of him had meant something to her. But she did have something she wanted to clear up.

  Claire looked up at him. “I didn’t sleep with Brett. The guy you saw.”

  His jaw ticked. “I didn’t ask. I don’t care one way or the other.”

  Her stomach dropped. Well, that answered the question once and for all whether the attraction on Saturday had been one-sided.

  Maybe he really had come by to get his freaking cooler. She tried to pull away, but he didn’t release her arm. “If you don’t care, then let me go,” she said firmly.

  Scott’s gaze dropped to his fingers on her arm, and though he eased the grip slightly, he didn’t release her. “Who was he?”

  “Just . . .” She swallowed, suddenly breathless. “Some guy. Clarke—”

  “Clarke?”

  “He thought Brett and I might hit it off.”

  “Looked like you did from where I was standing.”

  “I thought you didn’t care one way or the other,” she retorted.

  Scott’s jaw moved again. “How did I ruin your night? Before that.”

  “Fine,” Claire said, realizing that they needed to have this out before they could move on. He was still weeks away from finishing her house, and they couldn’t go on like this. “You really want to know? You made me feel pathetic. You danced with me, and you—it felt like maybe—I felt—”

  His gaze sharpened. “What did you feel?”

  “It doesn’t matter! Because then your date showed up, the date you couldn’t even bother to mention.”

  To warn me about so I could protect myself. Which wasn’t fair. She knew it wasn’t fair. Scott didn’t owe her loyalty or explanation. And yet knowing that on the rational level didn’t take the sting out of imagining Scott with the supermodel.

  He rubbed his free hand over his face, looking tired. “Ivet and I have known each other for years. She’s my go-to when I need a date, and if she’s in town . . .”

  “Exactly my point. It’s okay for you to have someone on speed dial when you need companionship, but you shoot daggers when I try to find that for myself.”

  “I didn’t! She was just a companion. I didn’t sleep with her,” he ground out. “I haven’t slept with Ivet in months.”

  Claire’s breath whooshed out, and she both hated and relished the relief that coursed through her. “She’s very pretty,” Claire said a little stiffly.

  “Yes. She is.”

  Claire searched his face, trying to figure him out, to see if she was all alone on this precipice of confused want. “At the gala, you said you’d known I’d be there.”

  He nodded once.

  “Why—” She licked her lips nervously, then went for it. “Did you ever think about asking me to go? Instead of Ivet?”

  He flinched slightly, and it was all the confirmation Claire needed. “Got it.” She jerked her arm free, but this time when he came after her, it was to move in front of her, physically blocking her path with his body, just inches separating them.

  “I’ve told you, Claire, I don’t get involved with people I consider friends. Or even friends of friends. You’re not�
�you’re not the kind of woman you mess around with and then leave.”

  “I never said I wanted to mess around.”

  “You sure?” he asked boldly, bending his knees slightly to put them at eye level. “Because I was there for that dance, too, Claire. That wasn’t nothing.”

  “No, it wasn’t!” she said angrily, shoving back at him, frustrated when he didn’t budge. “But I don’t want this any more than you do, Scott. I don’t even like you. I don’t like that you can’t seem to figure out what you want from me. I don’t like that somehow I’ve come to think you look just as good in this stupid farmer flannel as you did in that tux. I don’t like that you go home with your model, and then get pissed when I try to kiss a guy, which I can’t even seem to do by the way. They’re either bad at it, or I don’t feel it. Brayden got to sleep around all over the place, and yet he’s been dead for a year and I can’t seem to find . . .”

  She broke off and Scott took a small step closer, his gaze intense. “What can’t you seem to find?”

  Someone who makes me forget what he did to me. Someone who makes the hurt of Brayden’s betrayal stop.

  But casual sex with a random stranger wouldn’t fix that for her. She knew that now. She’d known it when Brett stood on her porch, charming and willing and likable.

  She hadn’t wanted him. She wanted someone who mattered. Someone who made her feel . . .

  Like Scott made her feel.

  The realization was surprising, unavoidable, and she didn’t have the faintest clue what to do about it.

  His question seemed to stretch between them in the silence. And though she didn’t verbally answer, his gaze locked on her mouth as though he knew. Knew what she was thinking, knew what she wanted—

  He caught her sigh with his lips, his mouth moving gently over hers in a searching, searing kiss. Scott kept his hands to himself; his lips did all the coaxing, leaving her free to step away if she wanted. She didn’t want.

  Scott’s head lifted slowly, and she took her own time opening her eyes to meet the question in his gaze.

  “Yo! Scott. Where you at, man? Where am I putting this oven?”

  Claire jerked away from Scott at the unfamiliar voice coming from her front door.

  Scott’s eyes closed just for a moment, then he turned his head slightly to yell over his shoulder, “This way, Daryl.”

  His gaze came back to Claire’s, the message in his eyes clear. We’re not done here.

  Except they were.

  She’d kissed Scott. Her contractor. Worse than that, she’d wanted to kiss a man who was best friends with her best friend’s boyfriend, which meant they’d likely be crossing paths at some point in the future.

  She let out a sigh of relief that she’d avoided some major awkwardness for her future self. Even if her present self was still sort of . . . wanting.

  Doing her best to keep it together, Claire calmly headed toward the stairs, ignoring the muttered curses as Daryl and some other guy struggled to get her new stove through the front door.

  “Claire.” Scott’s voice was a quiet command.

  She ignored it.

  “Claire!” He reached out a hand, but she dodged it, all but running for the stairs, taking them two at a time. He let her go.

  Claire started to head into her bedroom, but she froze in the doorway, her gaze flitting to her left, to the room. The ever-closed door behind which Brayden’s belongings continued gathering dust. The time was rapidly approaching when she’d have to open that door and deal with it. Scott wanted to tear up the carpet, replace the drywall, add a new coat of paint. For that, she’d need to clear out the room, to do something with the stuff.

  She walked toward the door, hand outstretched to the doorknob, only to realize . . . she couldn’t do it. Her hand dropped back to her side. Apparently, she couldn’t face the man from her past any more than she could the man who was rapidly becoming her present.

  Chapter Fifteen

  WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 28

  Claire needed a friend, and she needed one now. She considered going over to Audrey’s. Her friend’s apartment was close, and Audrey usually knew the right thing to say. But then, Audrey was also more inclined to say what Claire wanted to hear.

  And right now, what Claire needed was a little tough love and a gentle reality slap. For that, she turned to Naomi. Not to mention, Naomi knew Scott and would understand the magnitude of the mess Claire had gotten herself into.

  Since it was the middle of the workweek, she headed to Naomi’s office, which Claire always loved visiting. Her friend’s company may have been started from her kitchen table years ago, but Naomi wasn’t the type to be satisfied with a scrappy start-up. Eventually, Maxcessory had grown large enough to necessitate a dedicated office space, and last year the rapidly growing company had expanded yet again. The new office was modern, bright, bold, and had Naomi’s touch everywhere, from the bright orange furniture to the help yourself table of accessories in the reception area where Maxcessory’s accessory overstock was up for grabs for visitors.

  Claire usually made a point of perusing the table whenever she came in, but today she sailed right past it as well as the reception desk, where a startled Laura faltered slightly in her phone conversation before waving Claire on when she recognized her.

  Next line of defense was Deena, Naomi’s personal assistant. Deena looked up when she saw Claire. “Hey, babe, how you doing?”

  “Fantastic,” Claire lied. “She available?”

  “Sure, let me just—”

  Claire ignored Deena and pushed open the door to Naomi’s corner office, then shut it again before Deena could protest, making a mental note to apologize later.

  Naomi was standing at her window, pacing as she reviewed something on her iPad. When she glanced up, her surprised expression turned to concern when she saw it was Claire. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

  “I kissed Scott.” Might as well get right to it.

  Naomi’s finger was still frozen in the pointer position above the screen of her tablet, and she stayed that way for several seconds before slowly lowering her hand to lock the iPad before setting it down. “Scott Turner?”

  “Yes, Naomi, what other Scott would I be talking about?” Claire said in exasperation.

  “All right,” Naomi said calmly, shrugging out of the dark green blazer she’d paired with jeans and a white T-shirt. She looked effortlessly chic. Claire felt a flash of relief that she’d picked today to wear her new sleeveless berry turtleneck instead of the white blouse she’d almost grabbed.

  Naomi tossed the blazer onto the back of her chair.

  “Was it a spontaneous one-time urge or something that’s been brewing for a while?”

  Claire dug her fingers into her hair. “I don’t know. I thought the attraction was just something that came up out of nowhere on Saturday night at the gala, but now that I’m thinking it through, I’m wondering if it hasn’t sort of been there all along. I thought he just irritated me, and then I thought he could maybe be an okay guy, and now . . . damn it, Naomi, I think I like him.”

  “Oh dear,” Naomi murmured.

  Exactly. Claire looked at her friend in desperation. “You have to help me. I don’t want to like any guy. Especially not him.”

  Naomi sat in her chair and rested her elbows on the desk, face in her hands as she tapped her fingers thoughtfully against her cheeks. She stayed that way for a long while, thinking it over, before placing her hands palms down on the desk. “Okay. I’ll be honest. I’m worried.”

  Claire hadn’t been expecting that. “I thought you liked Scott. And you said it was a good idea for me to get Brayden out of my system.” She didn’t mention the room full of Brayden’s stuff that remained untouched. Naomi had seen it, but months ago. Claire wasn’t about to admit that she hadn’t done a damn thing with any of it.

  “It is a good idea for you to move on,” Naomi said. “And I do like Scott. He’s one of my favorite people, and I don’t like many people. You get w
hat you see with Scott, and I love that. But you’re not . . .”

  “His type?” Claire guessed, remembering the supermodel.

  “More importantly, he’s not yours,” Naomi pointed out. “Remember when we watched Gilmore Girls, and you had the gall to suggest that Christopher was better for Lorelei than Luke? Come to think of it, isn’t it because Luke wore flannel?”

  Claire winced. “You make me sound like a snob.”

  “No, you just know what you like, and it’s not men like Scott.”

  It didn’t used to be.

  “Maybe it’s just a proximity thing,” Naomi said gently. “I mean, you guys are two attractive people spending a lot of time together in a relatively small space. Plenty of opportunity to be thinking about . . .” She made a childish sex motion with her hands.

  “I don’t think it’ll come to . . .” She mimicked Naomi’s hand gestures.

  “Do you want it to?” Naomi asked.

  Claire hesitated. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this.”

  “Horny?”

  Claire laughed, trying not to feel embarrassed by the frank discussion. “I guess. But it’s a little more than that, because as we’ve seen, not just any guy will do it for me.”

  Naomi sighed. “Just Scott, huh?”

  “You think it’s a bad idea.”

  Naomi tapped her fingers and considered. “Okay, here’s what I know about Scott. He’s hot. Crazy successful, mostly without even trying. Oliver says he’s got some sort of genius thing happening. Like he sees things and does things in a way other people can’t see, and won’t do. He’s one of the good ones, and I don’t just mean that he gives a crap ton of money to charity, but that under all that gruffness, he’s incredibly kind. Rescue a kitten from a highway kind.”

  “In other words, not the kind of guy we agreed to protect each other from when we made the pact,” Claire said, feeling a surge of relief at the confirmation that Scott was one of the good ones.

  Naomi lifted a single finger. “I’m not done. I also know that he got his heart broken. Badly.”