by Nikky Kaye
I lifted my cotton shirt above my bra to swipe my face.
Ding!
“You know, you’d think I’d remember that body from summers at the lake.”
Oh god.
Until that moment, I hadn’t known I could burn with embarrassment and still feel cold prickles up my spine at the same time. Nathan had decided to welcome me at the elevator bank instead of waiting in his apartment.
I dropped the hem of my blouse. “Hi Nathan!”
Nathan Brownlow stood before me with his hands on his lean hips, his blue dress shirt rolled up and unbuttoned over a white undershirt. Beneath trim charcoal pants, his feet were bare.
He was a total stranger. Not in the “Wow, you grew up nicely!” kind of way, but the actual “I’ve never met you” kind of way—although he was smirking at me in a very, uh, familiar kind of way.
His arm shot out as the elevator door began to close between us, his hand slapping across the sensor. I bolted forward, managing to tip my bag over in the process. He flinched as the extended handle banged into his shin. Then the elevator began beeping in protest at being held up.
“I guess you’d better come in, sis.”
He let go of the door, bending down to lift my bag back up. I slipped out of the elevator before the door could close on me and followed him down the hall, taking the opportunity to notice the tendons flexing in his wrist as he rolled the giant suitcase behind him.
I was a sucker for wrists. They were so… strong but bendy.
When he ushered me through the door of his apartment, he left the suitcase in the hall.
“Is that going to be safe out there?” I asked. This was New York. A crime occurred three times every minute, or so I’d read.
Nathan lifted an eyebrow at me. “Safer than you might be in here, actually.”
Oh.
I laughed nervously as he shut the door. “Maybe I’d better start explaining…”
He mocked my titter. “Ha ha ha ha,” he said, his expression turning to stone in a split second. “Yeah, maybe you’d better.”
“I’m Zoe.”
“I got that part.”
“Zoe Zawaski.”
“Got that too.”
I dropped my overstuffed hobo bag on the scarred hardwood floor. “I’m Zuzu’s daughter.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head. “Congratulations?”
“Yeah, I know. Zuzu, right?” I stepped past him, looking around the open living space. “I think my grandma watched It’s a Wonderful Life when she was in labor or something.”
The floor had seen better days, its pockmarked honey planks contrasting with the stark white leather couches. The setting sun was on the other side of the building, and the only light in the apartment came from the halogen pendants hanging over the stone-topped kitchen island. The cupboards were sleek, frosted glass, as was the coffee table.
The whole apartment screamed, “Adults only! Kids and pets strictly forbidden!”
“Zoe?”
“Hmmm?” I turned from where I was trailing my fingers across the cool, smooth back of one of the ultramodern couches. Nathan still stood by the door, half in shadows.
“Who the fuck are you?”
My mouth fell open. Wow. Okay. Apparently the doorman wasn’t the biggest obstacle here. My face palm dislodged my sunglasses, and they landed on the floor with a clatter.
“Oh shit, please tell me they told you.” Mom, I’m going to kill you.
He strode toward me, suddenly much taller in the shadows than he was in the light of the elevator. “Who told me what?”
“My mother is married to your father.”
“Zuzu…”
“Married to Benny, yes. About six months ago.” I peered at him, but couldn’t interpret his frown. “Did you not know this?”
“He lets you call him Benny?”
“Yeah. I was kind of surprised that I didn’t get to meet you at the wedding, especially since it was so small, but my mom kept me pretty busy. Maybe I just missed you…” I trailed off, realizing that he hadn’t attended. I would have noticed him.
As he paced in front of the kitchen his lean body blocked the light like a strobe effect, making it even harder to determine his expression. “I guess I should send a card,” he said drily.
I wished I hadn’t left my purse by the door, desperately wanting something to fidget with. The air conditioning worked just fine in here, as the goosebumps on my upper arms and my hard nipples would testify to. Plucking at a leather seam on the couch, I tried to warm up the chill between us.
“Yeah, well, my sublet for the summer fell through and my mom said that your dad said that I could stay with you. It’s only for a couple of months, and since you have the extra ro—”
He held up his hand, his voice loud and sharp. “Wait.” I stopped talking, stopped breathing. “Back up,” he commanded.
My explanation came out as a stammering puddle of word vomit.
Just graduated from Iowa State. Go Cyclones! Communications degree. Landed advertising internship in Manhattan for the summer, yay! Sooooo excited! Scored a place on Craigslist, but totally got screwed over when I arrived. Stayed in a hotel last night, cried on phone to Mom. Instructed to go to Nathan’s.
“You’re a real estate agent, right?” I continued. “Maybe you know a place I could rent, short-term? Benny said I could stay in your guest bedroom, but I don’t know if—”
His hand went up again, muting me. “You cried?”
I sniffed. “I was very stressed.”
“Huh.” A corona of contempt radiated around him, like the halogen lights from behind his tall, tense body.
Judgmental jerk. I wasn’t ashamed of being in touch with my emotions. Self-awareness was the key to good interpersonal communication, although this conversation was not a stellar example. Honest emotions, as well as his father, were evidently strangers to Nathan Brownlow.
My chest tightened, anxiety welling up in me again. What if he kicked me out? My suitcase was still in the hall—at least I hoped it was. I certainly couldn’t afford a hotel for the summer, but I didn’t feel safe staying in a hostel. Maybe I could look on Airbnb, but I—
“Zoe, breathe.”
I inhaled shakily, hoping that letting the breath out wouldn’t unplug the tears I was holding back. My eyes closed. Centering myself, I pursed my lips and exhaled slowly and with control, just like in yoga class.
“I’m just going to try calling Benny,” I heard him say.
Nathan’s footsteps faded away into another room as I fought for inner serenity. I’d counted fifty-seven breaths when I heard him return. When I opened my eyes, he sighed. I blinked to adjust to the twilight, flinching when he stalked toward me.
His arm brushed against mine as he reached for a floor lamp behind the couch. The light from it revealed gold glints in his brown hair, and only then did I see that his eyes were as green as a panther’s. Just like a big cat he padded around me, scrutinizing every exposed, vulnerable inch.
I wrapped my arms around myself to suppress a shiver, and to hide the headlights I was sporting through my thin lace bra. “Nathan, I know this is—”
He held up his hand, silencing me. I was developing a downright Pavlovian response to the gesture. Soon I’d be salivating as well.
“You can stay tonight,” he conceded. “I can’t get a hold of my father.”
I nodded. “They’re trekking in Nepal. The satellite phone is a little wacky sometimes. I was lucky enough to Skype with them last night.”
Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Benny is in Nepal,” he repeated, as though it was a mystifying advanced math problem. “With Zuzu. What. The. Fuck?”
I bristled a little. It wasn’t my fault that he wasn’t in touch with his father. Well, in this case it might not be my fault, but it could still be my problem.
“Can I stay, then?” I asked in a small voice. Please please please please…
“For now.”
His eyes widened at my squeal and bounce. I summoned all the gravitas and gratitude my twenty-two years of life experience had rendered me capable of.
“Thank you thank you thank you thank you! I promise, I won’t be any trouble at all! You won’t even know I’m here.”
With a relieved sigh I flung myself at him, my arms going around his neck. It wasn’t until my still hard nipples made contact with his chest that I froze.
Oh, yeah, this was probably inappropriate. We were practically strangers after all.
His slightly shaggy hair curled under my fingertips at the nape of his neck, and his pectoral muscle was hard under my heated cheek. His heart thumped in my ear, making my own stutter and speed to catch up. He smelled like spice and soap and something purely masculine after a day of work in the hot city.
Yep, this was definitely inappropriate, but as his hands smoothed over my ribcage I couldn’t seem to move beyond blinking. He didn’t even have to hold up his hand this time.
Something deep in my belly constricted as his hands drifted down to wrap around my waist. Oh my god. He was so hot and hard and here that I didn’t even think to be embarrassed about him feeling my love handles. My thighs squeezed together under my jean skirt as he bent his head over mine. When he spoke, his breath against my ear made me shiver.
“Welcome to the family, little sis.”
* * *
THE NAUGHTY STEP, Book #2 in the Billionaire Book Club, moves in on March 30, 2017!
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COMING ATTRACTIONS
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About the Author
Nikky Kaye likes a little humor with her heat. She has only briefly been a member of one book club, but is willing to try again if the members are all hot billionaires. She loves New York but isn’t great with social media. For her readers, though, she makes an effort.
@readnikkykaye
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www.nikkykaye.com
[email protected]
Acknowledgments
My thanks to Neda Amini, Liz, Rachel, and the rest of the team at Ardent Prose for propping me up. Sybil Wilson of Pop Kitty Designs made the gorgeous cover.
Heartfelt and slightly snarky thanks also to Adira August, who won’t let me be “good enough.” She’s pushy, but that’s a good thing. And to my husband, who has been nothing but encouraging. I could not do this without his unfailing support.
I’d also like to thank the indie romance authors whose books have made me squeal and sigh over the last year—and some of whom I now know a little better (well, better than “stalking” anyhow). Last night instead of writing until 3am, I was reading until 3am, and I don’t regret it at all. You all set the bar so damn high… I hope one day I’ll be able to tell stories that I enjoy reading as much as I enjoy reading yours.
This book I wrote mostly in a vacuum. Killer dust bunnies, seriously. But that means that any errors are mine, and mine alone.
Also by Nikky Kaye
Once Should Be Enough
Don’t Think Twice
Do It Yourself
Copyright © 2017 by Nikky Kaye
Cover by Sybil Wilson of Pop Kitty Designs.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-1-988673-10-3
Created with Vellum
