Summer in New York Collection (A Timeless Romance Anthology)

by Janette Rallison, Heather B. Moore, Luisa Perkins, Sarah M. Eden, Annette Lyon, Lisa Mangum

  “Impressive,” I said, leaning closer to the tray of type. “You do this all the time?”

  Jesse shook his head, his hair slicked back with sweat. “Only for special occasions. Mostly it’s a hobby, now. Pops taught me how to set type when I was a kid. There’s not much call for hand-pressed materials these days, but still… I like to design the fonts and make the punches. The press in the back is vintage; still works even though it’s ancient. Dad prefers the computer, which is good, because it keeps the business running.” He ran his hand over the type, his mouth softening in a smile. “But this… this is…”

  “Art,” I whispered. “Magic.” I reached out and touched the hard point of the V that started Violet’s name.

  Jesse traced the curved back of Chester’s name. “Exactly.”

  I resisted the urge to lean my head against Jesse’s shoulder. I’d only just met him, but he was a poet, an artist, and a booklover, like me. He made me laugh, easily and with abandon. He listened to me as if he had all the time in the world. So much about him made me feel comfortable.

  I hadn’t realized how much I hadn’t felt that way with Devon lately.

  Devon was polish and shine; Jesse was earth and wind.

  I shook my head at the overly poetic thought.

  Maybe it’s the fact that he’s rocking the tall, dark, and handsome look hard. Or maybe all that water has gone to my head after all, I thought, amused.

  “Lucy?”

  I got the impression Jesse had said my name more than once.

  I blinked, the day’s excitement and exhaustion finally catching up to me. “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, but what I said was, “I’m really tired.”

  He smiled at me. “I can tell. Let me call you a cab.”

  “Nah,” I said. “I’ll just go back to my office. It’s close enough. And then I can pick up the invites as soon as they’re done.”

  “You’re sure?” Jesse asked.

  I shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I spent a weekend at the office.” Inwardly I smiled at his concern. Sometimes it was nice to be fussed over, even by someone you’d just met.

  “Must be some book,” he said, shaking his head, “to have you go to all this trouble.”

  “It is,” I replied. “It’s the best.” Before I could stop myself, I trailed my fingernail along the length of his forearm, lightly resting my hand over his. “But the best is always worth the trouble.”

  Jesse returned my flirty smile with one of his own and nodded. “Isn’t that the truth.”

  A half hour later, I crawled onto the couch in Monica’s office, grateful for the lush cushions that cradled me.

  What a strange day. My thoughts swirled around Devon, Unmarked, and Jesse, until they mixed together into a blend of desire and surprise. Lately, being with Devon had been like nibbling at a hangnail— irritating and hard to ignore. You knew you shouldn’t do it, but you did it anyway because it’s what you’d always done.

  Being with Jesse tonight, though, had been like pushing off on smooth ice. Cool, easy, but with a hint of danger that you might fall off the narrow blade beneath your feet.

  I could fall for Jesse if I let myself. I’d already started. What was I thinking, touching his arm like that? Who was that girl, flirting with a stranger after midnight?

  Actually, I thought, dreamily, that would make a great romance novel title: Flirting with a Midnight Stranger.

  I could see the cover now: A navy-blue sky dotted with stars and crowned with a full moon. A swarthy hunk of a man would be holding a swooning woman in his arms. And yeah, so what if the hero looked a little like Jesse? I could swoon with the best of them.

  Giggling to myself, I pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and up to my chest. I reached up and twisted open the blinds. The hard angles of the neighboring buildings sliced what little sections I could see of the sky into smaller bits and pieces. The stars were nearly invisible, washed out by the electric glow that rose from the streets like mist.

  I didn’t mind. This was my wilderness, a countryside I understood. Listening to the endless murmur of traffic below, I counted the lit windows from the buildings as if they were stars until I fell asleep.

  Sun on my face warmed me awake. Feeling deliciously comfortable, I yawned and stretched from my fingers to my toes. The large clock on the wall ticked another minute closer to noon. I’d slept the morning away.

  Why hadn’t my alarm sounded? I reached for my phone, its black screen reminding me of the dead battery.

  A fragment of memory floated through my mind. I was supposed to do something today. Pick up invitations. Yes, but there was something else…

  I sat upright on the couch, the blanket sliding unnoticed to the floor.

  Lunch with my mother.

  At 12:30.

  Across town.

  I’d never make it. And then I’d never hear the end of it.

  I pressed my hand to my head. So not how I wanted to start my Saturday.

  Padding across the hall to my office, I rummaged on my desk for my extra phone charger, waiting for the screen to flicker to life before I made the call.

  My mother answered on the first ring.

  “You’re not coming,” she said by way of greeting.

  Guilt stabbed through me. “I’m sorry, Mom. I overslept. I’m at the office and—”

  “And you have too much work to do,” she finished. “No, no. I understand. It’s fine. I don’t mind eating alone.”

  I bit back a sigh. “It’s not like that. I planned to have lunch with you, but it’s not going to work out today. What about next week?”

  “I have plans for next Saturday. With Lydia and Carl.” Silence filled the line between us. “It’s fine,” she repeated in an airy tone that still cut. “This way you can spend the day with Devon, which is what I know you’d rather do.”

  I groaned. I’d been meaning to have this conversation with her for a while now, but there’d never been a good time. And since I didn’t think there would be a better time coming up, a bad time like this would work just as well.

  “I don’t think it’s going to work out with me and Devon,” I said.

  She gasped. “Did you get fired? Why didn’t you tell me? I warned you that inter-office romances were a bad idea.”

  “No, Mom, I didn’t get fired. I just… I feel like maybe Devon and I should see other people.”

  That was putting the best spin on it. I hadn’t told Devon how I felt because he was the kind of man who wanted to do the leaving, not be the one who was left.

  “Are you seeing someone else?”

  “No.” Last night’s memory of Jesse’s dark hair and smoky eyes surfaced. An unexpected sweet heat shivered through me. I hadn’t dreamed him up, had I? “I’m trying to keep my head above water at work. Lots of things are happening with Unmarked right now, and I need to—”

  “You need to find the next bestseller; that’s what you need to do.”

  I frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “Monica only gave you that promotion because of that book you found. Sounds to me like you’ll need to find another bestseller right away if you want to get ahead at that company. You don’t want your boss to think it was a fluke.”

  I gritted my teeth. This. This was why I hated having conversations with my mother.

  “I’m doing the best I can.”

  “I know, sweetie,” Mom cooed, as if I were a child. “And you usually do fine. I’m sure this will be one of those times.”

  “I have to go, Mom,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later.” I disconnected the call with a shaking finger.

  I reviewed the stacks of paper on my desk, my cabinets, even on the floor. Somewhere in there was the next diamond in the rough— and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, part of me feared that my mother was right. If I didn’t deliver another prize-winner soon, perhaps Monica would take this all away. She could. She could replace me with someone else wi
th more experience, more promise.

  I riffled the pages of the manuscript I had just finished reading: Falling into Deep Water. The book was good; it could be great. I could feel it in my bones with each new page I read. I could see exactly how to make it better, make it shine. This manuscript was my best hope for another victory— and another gold star from Monica.

  The seed of an idea sprouted. What if I took the initiative and made an offer on the book? I could have it ready to go before Monica returned. Would she be impressed by my decision? Or horrified?

  Was I brave enough to do such a thing? Should I be?

  I grabbed a pen and wrote myself a note on the back of the title page:

  Call Posey Phillips. Offer contract on book. North American rights, English. 10% royalty on hardback, 8% on paperback.

  Then I signed my name with a flourish, followed by the title Publisher. Just to see what it looked like.

  It looked good, but it was also premature. I had a long way to go before I reached that status.

  Dropping my head in my hands, I seriously considered crawling back onto Monica’s couch, pulling the blanket back over my head, and not coming out until Monday morning.

  Take heart, sweet pea, Grandpa’s voice reminded me. Add an “and” to your day, and watch your troubles fly away.

  The silly rhyme made me smile, but I knew from past experience how right he had been: Whenever I looked for a way to make my day better— to add something positive to my life— I almost always found it.

  A knock rattled the front door of the office.

  I’d locked it last night— this morning— hadn’t I?

  It couldn’t be Devon. Not only did he have his own key, but he also never worked on a Saturday unless Monica forced him to.

  Everett? Unlikely. He’d had a head start on his weekend thanks to Devon. I couldn’t imagine Everett coming in on his day off.

  Who else knew I was here?

  I lifted my head as a knock thumped again. A smile teased at my lips. Could it be…?

  I took half a second to glance at my reflection in the dark glass of my monitor. Ugh, that was never going to work as a mirror. Too bad. I didn’t have time to fix anything. Finger-combing my sleep-tousled hair as I headed to the door, I hoped I looked at least partially presentable.

  Jesse stood on the other side of the glass door, the frosted lettering of Baker Publishing House obscuring part of his shoulder and face. He held a pristine white box tied with a violet bow.

  When he saw me, he grinned and lifted the box like a trophy. “Glad I found you,” he said, his voice muffled through the glass.

  “Just a sec,” I called, unlocking the door and stepping aside to let him in the lobby.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here,” he said. “Nice digs.” He glanced around, peeking through the open door that led deeper into the office.

  “My boss is a minimalist.” Two silver chairs flanked a white leather couch. A glass-and-chrome coffee table dominated the waiting area, displaying some of our most recent releases. Unmarked held a place of honor right up front.

  “So I brought you the invitations.” Jesse held out the box for me.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said. My fingers touched his as I took the box from him. “I could have come back to your place.”

  He laughed, and I blushed.

  Oh, Lucy, really? I mentally rolled my eyes. “We can talk in my office.” I turned and led the way through the door. “The ribbon is a nice touch,” I said, trying to stay on stronger, safer, conversational ground.

  “I thought Chester and Violet would approve.”

  Setting the box on the corner of the desk, I turned back to Jesse. He leaned against the doorframe as though hesitant to enter all the way without permission.

  He offered me a lopsided smile. “I hope you like how they turned out.”

  Lifting the lid, I withdrew the finished invitations. An embossed golden stripe ran around the edge of the heavy paper. The texture was creamy smooth beneath my fingers. The text sat perfectly in the center, each letter slightly raised, catching the light. The words looked like they had been written in flowing ink straight from the well.

  I looked up. “Oh,” I sighed. “They’re perfect. How much do I owe you? I’ll pay extra for your overnight work.”

  He shrugged with a boldness to his gaze that I found attractive. It was as if when he looked at me, he really saw me.

  “How about lunch? That should cover it, I think.”

  I tilted my head and regarded the man standing before me. Jesse was even more arresting in daylight than he’d been at night.

  “How about this,” I countered. “Baker Publishing pays you for the invitations”— I nodded toward my cluttered desk— “and then I take you to lunch?”

  Wait, what? Seriously, who was this girl inside me who had taken over my mouth and said such things?

  Jesse raised his eyebrows in appreciation at my own boldness. “Deal.”

  I closed the lid to the box and retied the ribbon just as Devon walked past my office door, nearly bumping into Jesse.

  “What are you doing here?” I blurted.

  Devon looked from me to Jesse and back again. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  I smoothed the front of my shirt, knowing that Devon had to have noticed that I was wearing yesterday’s clothes.

  Let’s see: I didn’t go out with Devon last night, and then he finds me alone with another guy? No wonder his face had hardened with disapproval. What a mess. I sighed. I was tired of disappointing Devon, tired of disappointing my mother, tired of worrying about what Monica might want or think or need from me. I wanted to get away from work for a bit.

  “We were just leaving,” I said, picking up the box, my purse, and my phone. I looped my arm around Jesse’s and headed for the main door. “Remember to lock up when you leave, darling. I’d hate to have to report your laxness to Monica.”

  Devon’s mouth thinned, and I felt the heat of his glare even after the door closed behind me.

  “Did you just use me to get back at a guy?” Jesse asked with a chuckle.

  “That obvious?”

  “I’m a self-professed student of all languages, both spoken and unspoken.” He paused. “Plus, I’ve seen that same look from other guys when a girl was stolen away.”

  “I can’t imagine any girl wanting to be stolen away from you,” I said. Oh, please, I chided myself. What was it about this guy that made me say whatever was on my mind?

  Jesse’s smoky eyes met mine, and he tucked my hand more securely around his arm. “Who said the other guys were the ones doing the stealing? Now, I believe there was some discussion about lunch…?”

  “Where would you like to go?” Jesse asked as we exited the post office and headed down the sidewalk.

  The invitations were safely stamped, mailed, and on their way to the members of our Gold List, and the last of my work commitments were done for the day.

  The summer sun had already moved past hot and had tipped toward broiling. The air smelled of exhaust and metal and people and sweat and trash and flowers and urgency. Horns honked and a siren sounded nearby; a second siren picked up the call, echoing a few streets away. The sensory overload was both familiar and intoxicating.

  “My treat, my pick,” I said. I was on the arm of a hot guy, strolling through the best city in the world. No pressure, no plans beyond lunch. I felt like a truant, and it made me smile. “And I know exactly where we should go.”

  I nudged his shoulder with mine, relishing the sensation of hitting hard muscle under his shirt, and directed him where I wanted to go: the corner of 5th and 40th.

  Jesse looked up at the gorgeous stone building on the corner. Lions kept watch over the stairs, which led to a trio of arched entryways.

  “Ah, the library.” His deep voice held more satisfaction than confusion.

  “Actually, we’re going to Bryant Park, behind the library. The grill has excellent rooftop views, and the
ir brunch menu is to die for.”

  “Best Eggs Benedict on the block,” Jesse said.

  I tilted a look in his direction.

  “What? Don’t I look like a man who enjoys brunch?”

  I think you look like a man who enjoys everything he touches, I thought, grateful that, for once, I was able to keep my thoughts to myself. But that didn’t stop a tremor of excitement from snaking through my veins.

  “There is one small problem, though,” Jesse said with a downward turn of his lips.

  It wasn’t fair that his frown was as sexy as his smile.

  “Our deal was for lunch. This is brunch. Totally different meal.”

  I tightened my grip on his arm as we neared the restaurant. “Rain check?”

  He grinned and held the door open for me.

  The Eggs Benedict were every bit as good as Jesse had promised they would be. And the view from the garden rooftop was every bit as relaxing as I remembered it being.

  Jesse leaned back in his chair, sipping a cup of coffee. A breeze kicked up and ruffled his dark hair. He stretched out his legs.

  I scraped the edge of my spoon around the rim of my sorbet glass, savoring the tropical flavors.

  “Dessert after brunch. I approve,” Jesse said, setting down his cup and picking up a cookie from the small plate.

  “Please tell me you didn’t work all night on those invitations,” I said. “I’d feel bad knowing you had a sleepless night on my account.”

  Jesse shrugged. “I was up anyway. Night owl.”

  “So your dad runs the store during the day, and you watch over it at night? And the ampersand on the door is part of a sign that’s supposed to read something like ‘Dad and Son Family Printing Business’?”

  He laughed. “No, the sign is exactly what I intended it to be.”

  “The name of your shop is ‘Ampersand’?” I flipped my spoon upside down and slid more melting sorbet onto my tongue.

  “Technically it’s ‘And.’ Most people don’t know the proper terminology.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Showoff.”

  “You knew what it meant.”

  “I’m in words, remember?”