Wicked Nights

by Anne Marsh

  “No, let me tell you, you son-of-a— Oh. Hi.” She stopped outside Eva’s doorway, nearly six feet of stunning brunette, who probably weighed less than Eva, all of five-four. “I’ll call you back, Edward. No? Well, fine. I won’t. Ever. Up yours.”

  “Hi.” Eva was having a hard time not giggling. Not that no one ever got pissed in Carmia, but that tirade seemed so New York to her.

  “You’re Chris’s sister.” Natalie looked Eva over curiously, taking in the turquoise ballet flats and tiered floral skirt, up to her colorful layers of loose-fitting tops, multiple ear piercings and assortment of butterfly clips in her hair. “She wasn’t kidding. You’re her total opposite.”

  “Close to it.” Eva sat as tall as possible, looking Natalie over right back, from her black ankle boots over crimson leggings and black microskirt under a stylish wrapped coat with big leather fastenings, then to top it off, a wide-brimmed black hat. The epitome of fashion chic. She and Chris must turn every head in New York when they went out together.

  “You meditating or something?”

  “Yes.” Eva smiled. “It keeps me centered and calm. You might want to—”

  “Uh-huh.” Natalie didn’t smile back. “My stuff in the refrigerator is marked, and I need the bathroom from five to six a.m. every morning.”

  “Not a problem.” Eva bunched her mouth to keep from smirking. Nice to meet you, too. “So you work for an interior design place?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” She said it as if it was the most boring job in the world. “I guess.”

  “How’s that?”

  “It’s okay.” She glanced at her watch, obviously anxious to move on.

  Perversely, this made Eva want to keep her talking. “How long have you lived in New York?”

  “Forever.”

  “Your parents, too? What did they do here?”

  Her demeanor thawed a tiny bit. “Mom was a Broadway chorister. Dad is a music professor at Juilliard.”

  “Wow! Cool family. Are you musical?”

  Natalie leaned against the doorjamb, though her body stayed stiff. “I played clarinet for a bunch of years and took dance lessons. Had a few parts in school plays and musicals, nothing big. I still love going to shows. I probably saw all of them growing up.”

  “That’s great.” Eva studied her new roommate, wondering how much further she could pry. “So I’m sorry about the awkward conversation with Edward.”

  “He’s a jerk. They’re all jerks.” Natalie shoved away from the door. “I gotta go get ready. I have a date.”

  “Oh.” Eva frowned in confusion. “Not with Edward...”

  Natalie gave her a withering stare. “As. If.”

  “Ah. Well, okay, then.” Eva waved cheerfully. “Have fun with whoever.”

  Natalie stalked off.

  Eva was pretty sure they’d never be best friends.

  And it was a little hard to continue her meditation with her new not-best-friend crashing and muttering around the apartment, but Eva did the best she could. At least when she stood again, she felt more centered, less scattered, though still eager to get to NYEspresso.

  Just under an hour later, Eva was standing outside her sister’s shop on Tenth Avenue and West Forty-Third Street in the up-and-coming neighborhood of Hudson Yards. Yes, she’d misjudged how long it took to get there, but the store didn’t close for an hour yet, and what a smorgasbord of faces and auras and interactions to keep her entertained during the walk and subway rides!

  Around her was a population in suits, jeans and office casual, mostly denim and black, practically everyone in dark shades, and her in her wild flowery skirt and magenta hoodie. Not that anyone gave her a second glance. You could get away with pretty much any look in this town.

  She pushed open the front door and was immediately hit by her favorite smell in the world—second only to the aroma of roasting beans—freshly brewed coffee.

  NYEspresso was different than she remembered, though it had been over a year since she’d visited. Chris had obviously put her own stamp on the place after buying it from the previous owners with the money she and Eva had come into at age twenty-five from wealthy grandparents on their mom’s side. The space was sparer than it had been, more efficiently organized, with snappy clear plastic seats and bright white oval tables with chrome supports. The counter was also bright white, a long, sharp rectangle with ordering and cashier service at the far end and pastry behind a glass case closer to the entrance. The walls had been painted deep red and left bare except for white glass sconces surrounded by black iron cages that looked like chain mail.

  Chic. Edgy. Not the most relaxing space. But this wasn’t Carmia, this was Manhattan.

  Eva approached the counter with a smile, held out her hand to the barista on duty, a handsome kid with three eyebrow rings and a necklace tattoo, whom she vaguely remembered had a weird nickname. “Hey, there. I’m Eva. Chris’s sister.”

  “Yeah, hey. How are you?” Only with his thick New York accent it sounded like Ha-wa-ya? “I’m Jinx.”

  “Jinx, right. Just stopping in to say hi tonight. I’ll be on the bar officially in the morning.”

  “Cool. Glad to have you. It’s cool what you and Chris worked out.” He looked toward the door and rolled his eyes. “Oh, brother, here we go.”

  Eva swung around. A large bouquet of flowers was walking toward her on male legs.

  Jinx snorted. “The dude does not give up.”

  The flowers lowered.

  Eva’s heart stopped. Okay, not really—that would be ridiculous, because she’d collapse—but it sure felt as if everything inside her and in the whole world had paused to note this auspicious occasion.

  Thick, short, dark hair that looked as if he’d tried hard to style it but the strands refused to lie flat. Deep brown eyes under dark brows. High cheekbones, a lean jaw. Full mouth, with a faint groove on either side. The shadow of masculine stubble. A small gold stud in one ear. Expensive dark suit, subtly patterned silk tie in blue, burgundy and beige. Gold watch. Perfectly shined shoes.

  That was him. Her soul mate. Her man, her One Great Love Eternal, acronym OGLE.

  Or at least he was her next hot fling.

  “Chris here?” Her soul mate put the flowers on the counter, glancing at Eva before he addressed Jinx. She was used to making no impression on a guy like this. But that wouldn’t last long,

  “Chris is not.” Jinx beckoned over another customer. Clearly he wasn’t a fan.

  The perfect man yanked an iPhone from his pocket and poked at it.

  “Hi.” Eva stepped forward, her hand out. “I’m Chris’s sister, Eva.”

  “Uh-huh.” He continued to peer at his phone, reading intently.

  “The woman you’re going to marry. We’ll have beautiful children. I’m thinking five or six. We should get started on that soon, since I’m already twenty-eight.”

  He lifted his head suddenly. Their eyes locked. Well, hers locked. He kind of glanced at her, then did a double take, like, What are you looking at? “Sorry, what were you saying?”

  “Nothing important.” She smiled sweetly, held out her hand again. Just concerning the rest of our lives together. Or, more likely, the rest of the month. “You were busy.”

  He made a sound of frustration. “Sometimes I’m not sure if I own the phone or it owns me.”

  “What’s your name?” She’d bet this was—

  “Ames Cooke.”

  Yup. The pain in Chris’s lucky ass. The entitled, arrogant rich boy, who Chris had neglected to mention was devastatingly sexy.

  Was he cocky businessman through and through? He certainly looked the part, but there was that gold stud glinting in one ear, and his slightly spiked hair. She was already thinking maybe a tattoo in a hidden place.

  A place she couldn’t wait to discover.

  “You visiting?” Ames was looking around, undoubtedly still hoping Chris would emerge from the back of the shop.

  “I’m taking over for Chris for a month.” />
  His attention zoomed back to her. “Chris? What’s wrong? Where is she?”

  Look how nice of him to be concerned. A thoughtful guy. “She’s at my place in California. We switched lives for a month.”

  “You switched—” Ames was clearly having trouble processing that one. But maybe the fact that his supposed beloved had left town without letting him know would help him understand that he and Chris were not destined to be together forever.

  Whereas he and Eva...

  At least for a month.

  “Well, crap.” He stared forlornly at the flowers, a stunning and almost laughably huge bouquet of pink roses, burgundy and white alstroemeria, white tulips, freesia and God knew what else.

  “You could take them back to the shop. Or leave them here.” Eva gestured around. “A little color and life wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Oh.” He stared as if he’d forgotten her. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Thank you.” She took the vase into her arms as if she were cradling a baby and beamed at him. “So what are you doing tonight, Ames?”

  As she expected, he looked startled, glanced at his watch, face reddening slightly. “I’m due at... I’m... I have...”

  “Wow. That sounds fabulous.”

  He laughed in surprise.

  “I just arrived today from California, so I’m going to take it easy tonight.” She put the vase on the counter over the pastry. “Maybe order takeout, because I hear you can get anything delivered in this city.”

  “True.”

  She threw him a flirty look over her shoulder. “Even you?”

  “Even me what?”

  “If I was home bored and wanted company, could I order you for delivery?”

  “I don’t...” He took a step back. “That is...”

  Eva waved dismissively and moved the vase farther down the counter. “Don’t worry, I was only flirting. Cup of coffee on the house?”

  “Uh.” He laughed uncertainly. “Actually, I’m—”

  “Jinx.” She inclined her head toward the barista. “Give this man whatever he wants.”

  “Okay.” Jinx stared coolly at Ames. “What’ll it be?”

  “Hmm?” Ames was lost in poking at his cell again. “Uh...a red eye. Room at the top. To go.”

  Eva took half a step closer to him. “We call those hammerheads in California.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” She grinned at him. He was so adorable and so innocently unaware of the nights of hot sex that lay in store for him over the next month—and possibly forever. “And in the upper Midwest, where I grew up, it’s called a depth charge.”

  “Okay.”

  Eva folded her arms across her chest. “So what do you do in this fabulous city, Ames?”

  He muttered something, jabbing away at the little letters.

  “Ames.” Eva put her hand on his arm and pushed gently down.

  “Huh?” He looked up at her. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “I asked what you do in New York.”

  “I’m sales manager for Boyce Wines, a distributor based here in New York. We import from exclusive small family vineyards in Italy and France.”

  “Cool job. So you know a ton about wine.”

  “I guess.” He shrugged and put his cell in his pocket, staring at her curiously. “Do you?”

  “Just coffee.” She took another step toward him, caught a whiff of his fresh masculine aftershave. “How did you get into that?”

  “Dad owns a wine shop.”

  “Yeah? Where?”

  “New Jersey.” He edged toward the pickup area of the counter. “Are you this nosy with all your customers?”

  “Nosy?” She sent him an odd look. “In California we call this conversation. They don’t do that here?”

  “Sorry.” He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Been a tough day. So, California, huh?”

  “Central Coast.” She tipped her head, smiling alluringly. “Good wine country.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Red eye. Room at the top.” Jinx plunked the container on the counter.

  “Sorry about your tough day.” Eva folded her arms. “Want to talk about it?”

  “I’m sure you have business to do.” He reached for the cup.

  “If I did, would I be offering to talk to you?”

  “Ah.” Ames rolled his eyes, smiling. “You are Chris’s sister, after all. Or at least you have her sharp reflexes.”

  “Thank you.” Eva frowned at the flowers, beautiful but oddly old-fashioned on the severe counter, as if the only flowers appropriate to the space would be square. “Have you ever meditated?”

  “Uh. No. Listen, it was nice to—”

  “It’s great on a stressful day. You should totally try it.”

  “Mmm, not interested. Thanks.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to try.” She touched a spot on his forehead just above his brows, where Buddhists believed the third eye existed. He froze in horror, staring up at her finger, which made him sort of cross-eyed, but still incredibly sexy. Eva willed him to look at her, which he did, proving they had a deep connection. Or that he felt like looking at her just then. Their eyes held—both sets that time—and the adrenaline thrill was so strong she could barely get herself to continue. “It’s amazing how calm and peaceful you can feel, while at the same time energized and clear. It’s so different from how we usually operate, rushing around coping with external stuff and worries, ignoring our instincts.”

  He blinked. “Uh, yeah.”

  “And...” She lowered her voice, drew her finger down the bridge of his very fine nose. “Meditating is also a very sensuous experience. You hear and see and feel and taste and touch the world in a whole new way when your mind is at peace.”

  The very delicious Ames swallowed audibly, then took a sudden step back, glancing at his watch. “Listen, thanks for the coffee. I really need to go.”

  “Sure, sure. You don’t want to be late for your whatever.” Somehow she kept her lips from twitching. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “Yeah. Same here.” He turned and headed for the door.

  “Ames!”

  He turned reluctantly back, looking annoyed. “What?”

  Eva pointed to the milk, sugar and stir station. “Room in your cup?”

  “Oh. Right.” He strode over and splashed milk into his coffee, jammed on a lid and rushed out of the shop.

  She watched him go, hugging her hoodie around herself, a smile playing on her lips. What an amazing day this had turned out to be. She’d met her next true love, Ames Cooke, who didn’t seem to realize they were meant to be.

  The poor guy wasn’t going to know what hit him.

  Copyright © 2014 by Muna Shehadi Sill

  ISBN-13: 9781460340363

  WICKED NIGHTS

  Copyright © 2014 by Anne Marsh

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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  Anne Marsh, Wicked Nights