by Isabel North
Still. It was…good…to make contact.
With a human being.
Contact that was more than an accidental brush of the barista’s fingers as she handed over change at the coffee shop.
God, she was in a bad way.
“Oh,” Anna said. “We’re hugging? Sure.”
She gave Nora a quick squeeze, a brisk pat to signal that the hugging was over, and strolled into the apartment. She dropped her purse and phone on the couch, put her hands on her narrow hips, and surveyed the space with a critical eye. “Wow. Nice apartment.”
“Thanks.”
“Sarcasm, sweetie. Have to tell you, I was already feeling down before I came over. This is the universe kicking me in the ovaries.”
“Come on, Anna. I like it. It’s mine.”
“It looks like a teenager’s. Make that a tweenager’s. Pink fluffy pillows? What’s going on with you? I don’t remember you having pink fluffy pillows even when you were a tween.”
“I’m in San Francisco. Thought I’d cut loose. Be arty.”
Anna looked around. “Uh-huh.”
“Of course for you uh-huh, this is your career—”
“Saying no to ugly?”
“—but for any mere mortal, it’s artistic.”
“Was that your defense for spray-painting Vince’s house? It’s artistic?” Anna’s flawless face scrunched up into the pixie smile that used to get her out of trouble all the time when they were kids.
Nora groaned. “Mom told you about the spray-painting?”
“Yeah. Why the hell did you get drunk, Nora? Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time?”
You’d think she would have, but no.
Anna continued, “It’s like the movie Gremlins, except instead of a cute fuzzball turning into a creepy monster, you get near alcohol and you turn into Satan. As in, the actual Devil. I remember overhearing your mom talking to my mom. Did you know she thought about getting you exorcised?”
Nora wasn’t surprised. Her mother had a tendency to overreact. She had not handled Nora’s one teenage rebellion well.
Anna laughed. “How did Aunt Moira take having to bail you out this time?”
Nora scowled. “No one bailed me out. Vince and Melissa didn’t press charges. They hadn’t even wanted the cop to arrest me in the first place. It was all a big misunderstanding.”
Melissa hadn’t wanted him to arrest her, Nora amended. She’d even sprung Nora from jail a couple of hours later and, insisting it had been nothing more than a prank, had charmed the cops into letting her off with a warning. Once Vince had gotten a good look at what Nora had sprayed over the siding of his dream house, his initial let’s all be reasonable, officer, attitude had cooled somewhat.
When Nora had turned eighteen, her grandmother had given her a bottle of twenty-four-year-old Scotch. This was a couple of months after the first and only other time she’d drunk alcohol.
Naturally, she’d thought her grandmother was trying to make some kind of point.
Instead, her grandmother had insulted all of Nora’s feminist sensibilities when she’d told her not to drink it herself, but to save it for her husband to drink a toast on the day she presented him with his firstborn.
So of course when Nora was going through her apartment in a whirlwind of outraged feelings, gathering up Vince’s surprisingly few possessions with the idea of driving to his new house and dumping it all on his new lawn, she’d stumbled upon the dusty bottle in the broom closet.
Along with the red and silver spray-paint she’d used to make Christmas decorations the year before.
A couple of bad decisions later and, as Anna put it, her life had gone to shit.
She was never drinking again, she knew that much.
“Oh my God.” Anna had been prowling around the apartment, and her voice now drifted from the bedroom. Nora saw her by the nightstand, looking down, and she ran to intercept.
“What is this?” Anna was saying.
“Don’t touch it!”
Too late. Anna picked it up. She turned it over in her hand, holding it to the light and gazing at it in fascination.
“Put it down, Anna. You are violating my privacy!”
“You know, this kind of thing is considered acceptable these days.” She waved the bright pink Filofax at Nora.
“Anna! Private!”
“In fact, this shit is even considered cool. In hipster circles.”
Nora snorted a startled laugh. “Hipster. Yeah. That’s me.”
“The way you dress? Look like one.”
“Did you come here just to insult me?”
In response, Anna undid the clasp of the Filofax with a loud pop.
Nora lunged. “Don’t read it!”
Anna held the Filofax over her head. She’d been taller than Nora since she’d hit a growth spurt at age twelve, and the stilettos gave her an extra advantage. She read aloud from the page it had flopped open at. “Number one: get job. Number two: get dog. Number three: get… Nora! Rude.”
“You are such a child.” Nora poked Anna in her flat stomach, and when she doubled over with an exaggerated oof, snatched the Filofax off her.
“Yeah,” Anna said. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a sophisticated image to uphold. Guess what? This is your lucky day.”
Nora refastened the clasp and slammed the Filofax back onto the nightstand. “I feel lucky.”
“I can help you with the job. With the job you can get the dog. Item number three, however? Girl, you are on your own. Although, there is a great sex shop not too far from my office. Might want to look into it.”
“Thank you so much.”
Anna jerked her chin at the Filofax. “Do you have a sexual bucket list in there?”
“No.” Not yet. Now I know what I’ll be working on this evening. “Back to the job. What kind of job is it?”
“Interior designer’s assistant.”
“Let me guess. You’re the interior designer?”
“See, you’re smart. I need that in an assistant. You’re hired! Good interview.”
“Is this a pity thing? Did my mother call you, tell you to come over and offer me a pity job?”
Nora hoped not. Because she kind of wanted it, but she also kind of thought that accepting a pity job from her hotshot baby cousin arranged by her mother would be the death blow to any pride she had remaining.
“Nope. Aunt Moira told me you were living here, and asked me to take you out to dinner some time. And to introduce you to any nice youngish men I knew.”
“Youngish?”
“Her words. The job is you taking pity on me. My ex-assistant Gretchen left me in the lurch and I need the help.” Anna heaved a sigh, shaking her head. “I don’t need the help, I’m desperate for it. If I don’t get my shit together, Nora, my business is going to fail, and I’ve worked too damn hard for—”
“I’m in.”
“You’re in?” Anna slumped with dramatic relief.
“I don’t know a damn thing about interior design, but if I can help, I’ll do it.”
“Yay! My savior! I knew I could count on you, No-No.”
Nora wrinkled her nose. “Pay me back by never calling me that name again. I hated it when I was thirteen, and I loathe it now.”
“It’s cute. Okay. I’ll save it for when I can embarrass you in company.”
“Go ahead. I’ll retaliate. What was it they used to call you in middle school…?”
“Before we go any further, I should tell you that the pay will be shit. Really shit. I’d go so far as to say insultingly shit. Which is why I’ve been struggling to find anyone to take the job.”
“Will the pay remain shit, or is there the possibility of improvement if things get better?”
“Nora, if you help me before I lose it all, I’ll make you a partner. I said that without wincing, and that fucking migraine of a pink pillow is pulsing in my peripheral vision. That is how serious I am.”
“All right. Let’s do this.” She
had a job!
Anna cheered and threw her arms around Nora. Then she patted her back and tried to pull away. “All right. Hug’s over. Come on. Jesus. Might I suggest you make getting a dog a priority? You nearly broke a rib.”
Nora forced a smile, and cleared her throat. “Yeah. Good idea. I’ll do that.”
As Anna turned to collect her purse and iPhone, Nora blinked her eyes rapidly, stupid eyes she felt filling with tears.
“I have to go, but—” Anna said, and did a double take when she saw Nora’s face. “No. Oh, no. Don’t you do it. Don’t you dare cry.”
“I’m not going to cry. See you soon. Great to catch up.” Sniffing, she pushed Anna toward the door.
“Nora. Don’t cry.”
“Then stop looking at me!”
“Right. I forgot.” Anna covered her eyes, Tiffany charm bracelet jingling. “Got it together? I worry about you—”
“Stop it, you monster! You know the rules. Don’t look at me and don’t be nice! You know that makes it worse!”
Always had. The instant someone offered her sympathy, she turned into a sobbing, out-of-control mess.
She was not proud of this.
“Okay, jeez. You are so emotional.” Anna uncovered her eyes, reached out, and gave Nora a gentle slap. “There. Better?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because I don’t think I can slap you any harder. Come here.” She pulled Nora in for another quick hug. “I’ve got, ugh, a thousand things to do this afternoon, but you and I are going out to dinner tonight to celebrate your new life, and your new job. I’ll give you the lowdown on the client I’m trying to land. Let me rephrase that. The client I have to land. He’s some millionaire tech guy and he’s gone through five designers in three months. Word is, he’s a nightmare to work with.”
“Shit pay and a nightmare client?” Nora said. “I can’t wait.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Nora had never worried all that much about her wardrobe. In general, she stuck to the basics. Jeans and cute boots for everyday wear. Skirt and blouse for work.
If she was feeling daring, the jeans were skinny and the boots had a heel. Her work outfits, on the other hand, always tended toward the conservative. There hadn’t been much scope for daring, working as the office manager at a dental practice.
This morning she’d dressed to impress the client and Anna. After walking for ten minutes through the trendy area of San Francisco Anna had directed her to, Nora was painfully aware that she was a fashion failure. She felt like she was in a movie where a manic pixie dream girl with an endless range of cutesy vintage dresses took the city by storm.
Only, Nora wasn’t the dream girl. She was playing Drab Extra Number Four, whose general mousiness, baggy skirt and blouse with a ruffled neckline she’d known she couldn’t pull off, had been designed by the costume department to help the bright young star shine.
The street she was walking down was on the threshold of an area undergoing redevelopment. Maybe in a couple of years it would be a picturesque neighborhood that locals rushed to invest in and tourists rushed to explore, but right now, she’d crossed the invisible line of edgy-cool and was headed straight into seedy.
Warehouses loomed close by. The businesses she passed changed from boutique clothes shops and craft galleries to bars, gyms, and tattoo parlors. It was rougher than she was used to, but then, road trip aside, she was used to White Picket USA. So that wasn’t saying much.
She liked it.
A lot.
Not just the area, with its restless vibe. She liked that she didn’t fit in. She was wearing the wrong kind of clothes. It was obvious she wasn’t going to a gym, or a bar, or to get a tattoo. She probably looked like she’d been beamed down from a different planet.
And she didn’t give a crap. She strode along, soaking it all in.
It was early. The air was still cool and damp from the morning’s rain, but the sun was already warming things up. After dinner last night, Anna had dropped her at her apartment and given Nora the client’s address and a key to the property, telling her to meet there at eight o’clock sharp. “And if I’m late, go ahead and let yourself in, check out the space.”
Nora had looked at the key then back at Anna. “Is this a joke?” she’d said.
“Why?”
“Need I remind you that I haven’t had the best luck letting myself in to places?”
“You’re not going to walk in and find Mr. Sterling snuggling in postcoital bliss with his latest woman. He’s remodeling a warehouse. We’re pitching to decorate the apartment, but he doesn’t live there. He lives in the penthouse of his office building, a penthouse which I also get to redecorate if he’s pleased with this job.”
“Confirm it for me,” Nora had said. “He wants me to let myself in. And he absolutely won’t be there?”
“Confirmed. He’s meeting us at nine. I’m supposed to get a preliminary look first, so he can rush in, be all rich and imposing, order us about, then rush off again.”
She’d never been ordered about by a millionaire before. Sounded fun.
Nora heard the tread of purposeful footsteps and glanced across the street, having to turn a little since it came from behind her. There was plenty of other noise around but the purpose in those steps, or maybe it was their relentless rhythm, pulled her from her thoughts, demanding she take notice.
Take notice she did, and it was no hardship.
The man was big. He was over six feet tall, and well-built with it. She guessed he’d come from the gym a couple of buildings down; he was wearing black track pants with white stripes down the long legs, a forest-green T-shirt, and a half-zipped hoodie. He had a bag slung over his shoulder, and an aura of dangerous energy crackled around him. His dark blond hair was close-cropped, and he was gaining on her.
Nora picked up her pace. Then she mentally smacked herself. He wasn’t gaining on her, he was walking along, minding his own business. He wasn’t paying any attention to her whatsoever. He passed a group of stunning young women heading toward the gym he’d left, with their yoga mats and yoga pants and yoga bodies. To Nora’s surprise, he didn’t even give them a second look.
Unlike the women, most of whom turned and walked backward to get a view of his ass.
Yeah, if he didn’t notice the fit and glowing spandex-clad twentysomethings, he wasn’t going to spot the mousy thirtysomething with small boobs, a tweed skirt and ankle boots.
She’d been craning her neck to look back and keep him in view as she walked. Facing forward, she glanced at her wristwatch, and lengthened her stride.
“Hey.” The deep voice behind her made her jump, and she whirled around.
It was him. He’d crossed the street to her side and was about eight feet away.
Nora opened and shut her mouth, but before she could speak and ask if he was talking to her—a quick glance around suggested yes, since there was no one else in sight—his gaze flicked up. He closed the gap between them and she found herself pinned by a pair of intense green eyes.
Nora tried to say something coherent…and she gargled at him.
Gargled.
He raised his brows.
She coughed and pointed to herself. “Are you… Did you want…me? Are you talking to me?”
He shook his head.
Of course he’s not talking to you.
His eyelids flickered and his mouth firmed. “Hey,” he said again.
Nora jumped back a step at the rough, annoyed bark.
He opened his eyes wide at her, then tapped the slender device hooked over his ear. Not you, he mouthed. He slipped a hand into the pocket of his hoodie, took out a cell phone, and jiggled it at her.
She realized he’d come to a stop in front of her, and she was staring at his lips. An angry voice buzzed from the earpiece. She watched his stubbled cheek crease with an almost-dimple despite the yelling at the other end of the phone, and then he reached out to her.
His large, warm hand closed over her shoulde
r, he applied gentle pressure to shuffle her aside and…and she’d been gawking at him so hard he had to move her to get past.
Nora felt the heat scald her cheeks.
It got worse.
Rooted to the spot, she turned with him as he passed, like he was a freaking magnet and she was a loser. Clearly, that energy crackling around him had the power to wipe her higher cognitive functions.
He glanced down and she was hit with the full impact of those green eyes from a distance of mere inches. “Cute,” he said.
She gazed at his wide shoulders and broad back as he walked away. God, she wished he was talking to—
“Yeah,” he threw over his shoulder, “now I’m talking to you.” He caught her staring at his ass, laughed, and sauntered on.
Since he’d already caught her and laughed at her, she admired the view until he made a left into an alley two buildings up ahead, and was out of sight.
~ ~ ~
Anna wasn’t there when Nora arrived at the warehouse. She opened her Filofax, flipped to the page where she’d noted down the address, and double-checked it against the number spray-painted on the side of the building by the door.
Yep. She was in the right place.
She stuck the Filofax back in her purse and contemplated the crumbling brick facade. Huh.
The warehouse was covered in scaffolding, more than half the roof seemed to be open to the sky, and apart from the enormous and sparkling new windows on the top floor, every pane of glass in sight was either broken or cracked.
The number wasn’t the only thing spray-painted on the walls, either.
It didn’t look like the kind of building you’d find a millionaire in, but she supposed that was the point of redevelopment.
Nora rummaged around in her purse for the key Anna had given her—attached to an elegant keyring engraved with Holmes Squared, the name of Anna’s business—and turned it over in her hand a few times.
Should she go in? Or wait for Anna, who should be here any minute?
She’d wait.
After ten minutes of waiting, followed by a further five minutes avoiding eye contact with the army of contractors who drove up in a convoy of work vehicles and started climbing all over the scaffolding and yelling at each other, Nora decided to go on in.
