At the curb, Heath hailed a taxi then bundled Aileen into the backseat before following her inside. It wasn’t until they’d safely pulled away and merged into traffic that she hazarded a look back and spotted the senator’s two guards still standing at the curb where they’d been moments earlier. Exhaling slowly, she slumped back against the cab seat and closed her eyes. “Thanks for getting me out of that. I owe you one.”
“You owe me way more than that.” Heath shook his head. “I’ve spent the last three weeks tracking you down and doing some investigating on my own on your senator back there. He’s not a guy to be messed with under any circumstances. I think it’s time you came home and let Murphy and Daveed and I help you.”
Her lips still tingled from his kiss and her senses were still rioting. Adrenaline fizzed through her bloodstream like soda pop. Not exactly the best time to make life decisions, but Aileen had never been one to take well to orders. Especially from people who had no business giving them. And yeah, maybe the guy was used to being obeyed in the military, but this wasn’t the Middle East and she sure as hell wasn’t one of his lackeys.
Aileen straightened in her seat and pulled off her ridiculous wig. At least the senator and his guards hadn’t seen her real hair—a shoulder length black bob. “And I think you should mind your own damned business, Mr. Heath Goldwin. I didn’t ask you to look for me. In fact, I did everything I could to not be found until I was ready. Tell Murphy I’m fine and forget about this, okay? I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. Been doing it a long time. Had to in my family.”
Heath crossed his arms and gave her some serious side eye. “No.”
“No?”
“No. Thanks, but no thanks. Now that I’ve found you, I’ll be sticking around until I can bring you safely back home. I owe Murphy at least that much.”
Who the fuck did he think he was? Aileen’s nose twitched with indignation. She was a grown adult woman, a noted journalist on the beat of a story that could make her career. Hell, this expose might even win her a damned Pulitzer. What she wasn’t was some toy for Heath to play with and she sure as hell wasn’t his property to boss around as he wished. His boss routine might work on her brother, since they’d served together, but it sure as fuck wouldn’t work with her. While Aileen glowered at him, his arrogance seemed to grow to new heights, given his self-satisfied expression.
“In fact, if you don’t come with me willingly,” Heath said, that brow of his raised again. “I might just toss you over my shoulder and haul your ass back to the apartment anyway.”
“Try it and I’ll scream so fast it’ll make your head spin.” Aileen crossed her arms, not giving an inch. “In fact, please try it. You can sit your butt in jail and explain to the cops why you manhandled and kidnapped an innocent woman.” Then, she hit him where she imagined it would hurt him most—right in the reputation. “Though I suppose you’re due for another run on the tabloid covers by now, aren’t you? Seeing as how the story about you and your ex-fiancée has cooled off. Bet that must’ve stung, huh? Having her run off with some actor right before the wedding, then coming home again only to fall in love with your buddy instead. Sounds like she and Daveed Rafik are deliriously happy these days. Man, that’s got to sting the old ego, eh?”
Heath said something under his breath she didn’t catch, then leaned forward and slipped the driver an extra fifty to get them back to her apartment ASAP.
3
“Where are you going?” Heath asked, bewildered as Aileen walked right past her apartment door and down the hall to the next-door neighbors’ place. Her snarky comments in the cab had left him on edge. He couldn’t have given two shits about his break-up with Mel. That had all been for show anyway. No. His discombobulation was far more about that kiss on the sidewalk in front of the senator’s SUV. Talk about a horrible mistake. He should’ve kept his hands and his lips to himself as he’d intended. Still, she’d got in a couple of low blows, so he couldn’t resist getting a jab in himself. “Been gone so long you forget which one’s yours?”
Aileen turned slightly and glanced at him over her shoulder, giving him the facial-expression equivalent of a middle finger. God, how could two siblings who’d grown up so close be so different personality-wise? Sure, Murphy had been a bit grumpy and a pain in his ass the past few weeks, but considering his little sister had gone missing, the guys cut him some slack. Normally Murphy was the most laid-back, affable guy Heath knew.
His sister, on the other hand, gave a whole new meaning to the term smartass.
Instead of walking back to where he was waiting by her door, Aileen knocked on the neighbors’ apartment then gave him a sickly-sweet smile meant to convey a hearty “fuck you.” Then the neighbors answered and Aileen’s smile transformed into genuine joy. An older woman, early seventies, leaned out and pulled Aileen into a tight bear hug.
“Oh my gosh, honey,” the woman said in a distinctly New York accent. “You have no idea how worried we’ve been. How are you? Where have you been hiding?”
“I’m fine. I’ve been working on a story. Undercover.”
Heath frowned. Was that a tearful sniffle he heard in Aileen’s voice? Exactly who were these people and why would Aileen go straight to them to let them know she was okay before she even alerted her own flesh and blood brother?
Mind swirling with questions, Heath slowly approached the two ladies. Murphy had waited this long for news of his sister, a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. As he got closer, though, the older woman looked up and locked gazes with him. She pulled Aileen tight to her side in a show of maternal protection and scowled. The older woman gave him a quick once-over then side-eyed Aileen. “Who’s he?”
Aileen looked at Heath with both anger and resignation. “He’s a friend of my brother’s.”
“Ah. Pretty boy, ain’t he?” The older woman snorted. “Never seen your Murphy wearing duds like that around. Jeez, that coat alone could pay our rent for a year.”
Honestly, Heath had had this winter coat for years. It was the first purchase he’d made after his discharge from the military. And contrary to what everyone seemed to think about his expensive taste, it wasn’t about the money. It was about the quality. Well-made things lasted longer. They made good fiscal sense. That’s why he was willing to pay a bit more for something, knowing he’d get years of wear out of it. Designer labels and couture tailors meant nothing if the product itself was crap. And he might’ve inherited his wealth from his family, but he sure as hell didn’t flaunt it like they did, nor did he intend to blow through it like water on frivolous expenses. Every dollar he spent was because it meant something to him or because it would benefit a cause he supported, like BrightStart, the tech company he’d founded. The company was focused on bringing more STEM education to women, minorities, and other underprivileged groups. In Heath’s opinion, wealth should empower and enrich people, not be hoarded stingily—a philosophy his father didn’t share, unfortunately.
Aileen tapped the toe of her shiny black Santa boot on the hardwood floor of the hallway, her gaze narrowed and her expression skeptical. Then that skepticism morphed into determination as she seemed to come to a decision about things. Quick as a flash, she turned to the older woman and gave her another brilliant smile. “Can we come in for a minute?”
“Of course, honey. You’re always welcome in our home,” the older woman said, gesturing Aileen into the apartment. Her friendly smile shifted to a frown as Heath sidled past her. So much for a warm welcome where he was concerned.
Still, the pure joy on Aileen’s face had Heath’s heart pinching and his lungs aching. Aileen as she’d been outside, all prickly and pissed off, was a sight to behold. Aileen now, all happy and caring and relaxed, was… well… breathtaking.
Perplexed by his reactions, he took a look around the apartment while the older woman closed the door behind them. The layout of the place was a mirror image of Aileen’s next door, a small studio loft with a separate bathroom and neat sections divided
off by book shelves or furniture or Asian paper screens. Soft golden light from several lamps bathed the area and the succulent scents of roasted garlic and melted cheese drifted through the air. Heath’s stomach growled. He’d not eaten all day. Too busy tracking the senator, then later, Aileen.
In the living room space sat an older man in baggy trousers and a mustard-yellow sweater vest. His threadbare recliner faced a TV flickering with images from some game show. Aileen bent to kiss the old guy’s cheek and he reached up to pat her hair.
“Glad you’re back, snookie,” the older man said, his gaze never leaving his program. “We’ve been worried about you.”
“Thanks, Pops.” Aileen stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her, not meeting Heath’s gaze. “These are the MacLeans. Fiona and Devon. They pretty much adopted me when I first moved to New York to start my journalism career. Fiona and Devon, this is Heath Goldwin, III.”
Heath could’ve done without her throwing out his whole title. Not that he was embarrassed of his heritage, but sometimes it made people act weird around him once they knew he was part of an old-money, illustrious family.
Fiona exhaled slow then shrugged one shoulder, looking completely unimpressed. “Well, you can’t help your family, can you?” She reached over to shake his hand. “I think I’ve seen you around here before, with Aileen’s brother. Did you two serve together in the military?”
“Yes, ma’am. Two tours in the Middle East. I’m retired from duty now.”
“Thank you for your service, son.” This came from Devon, who still seemed completely absorbed in his show, some trivia game Heath had never seen. Truth was, he rarely had time these days to just sit and do nothing. A commercial came on and Devon finally looked up and met Heath’s gaze, his eyes sharp and watchful despite his advanced age. “I did a couple tours myself in Korea. War is hell, ain’t it?”
“Yes sir, it is. What branch were you in?”
“Air Force. Mechanic,” Devon said.
“Ah. Murphy and I served together in the Navy. That’s how we met actually. War has a tendency to bond people.”
“Got that right.” The older man seemed to take stock of Heath before finally pointing to an arm chair across from him. “Take a seat, son. I know exactly what you’re talking about.”
Heath hazarded a glance over at Aileen, who was leaning a shoulder against the wall near the kitchen, where Fiona was back to her cooking. “Oh, well. Thanks, but we need to get back to Aileen’s apartment. Her brother’s waiting for news about her and I—”
“Nonsense.” Fiona walked out of the kitchen area, hands on hips. “You’re staying for dinner and that’s that. I won’t hear an argument about it. Now sit down and wait like a good boy.”
Aileen shook her head, biting back a grin, and Heath gave up the fight. He limped over to his seat and shrugged out of his coat and scarf while Aileen went into the kitchen to help Fiona. It seemed like a scene right out of the fifties, and the last place he’d expected to find himself tonight. Still, the MacLeans’ place was comfortable and homey and made him yearn for all the things he’d never really had growing up, the things money couldn’t buy—affection, acceptance, easygoing evenings where the whole family was present and no one was checking their phones or the latest stock reports or the society pages.
“That injury from your service?” Devon asked, pointing to Heath’s leg.
“No.” He smiled, not really wanting to get into his father’s polo playing for fear it would only isolate him even more from these people. “Broke my leg when I was a teen.”
“Too bad.” Devon focused on his TV show again and soon Heath lost himself in the trivia questions too, eventually even joining Devon in answering the final round. They cheered and high-fived each other and Heath was surprised to find he was enjoying himself more than he had in a good long while.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Aileen called as she finished setting the table. “You guys can come over and take a seat.”
Minutes later they were all gathered around the dining room table. Fiona dished up fresh salad and homemade bread sticks and spaghetti Bolognese, and Heath couldn’t remember when he’d ever tasted anything more delicious, or felt more scrutinized.
“So, what are your intentions with our Aileen?” Fiona asked.
“No intentions, ma’am.” Heath washed down a bite of food with a gulp of water. “I promised Murphy I’d help find her and that’s what I’ve done. He’s been worried sick about her these past few weeks. The way she took off without a word to anyone.”
“It’s called going undercover for a story,” Aileen snapped, giving him a dirty look across the table. “You seem to keep forgetting that I’m a grown woman who can make my own decisions about where I go and who I tell when I’m leaving.”
Trouble was, since that kiss in the park he hadn’t forgotten for a second that she was a grown woman. A woman with soft curves hidden by that ridiculous Santa suit.
Speaking of that suit…
“You guys aren’t curious why she’s dressed up like that?” he asked the MacLeans and gestured toward Aileen with his fork.
Devon shrugged, his concentration on his plate. “Snookie always did have a flare for the dramatic and she’d do anything to get her story. I figure if she wants to dress up like St. Nick then she’s probably got a good reason for it.”
Aileen gave him a take-that stare. “They know what my job entails and they trust me to do it safely and competently. Unlike some other people.”
“What’s got me thinking more, Heath,” Fiona said, gesturing with her fork in his direction, “is what’s got a rich guy like you slumming it down here with us lower East Side types. We ain’t got much and the place is falling apart around our ears. Just last week our heat went out. Had to argue until I was blue in the face with the super to get it fixed. Still haven’t made a dent in the bill yet.” She scrunched her nose and narrowed her gaze on Heath. “But even with our financial issues, we take care of our own. I don’t want’ to see our Aileen get mixed up with some guy who doesn’t have her best intentions at heart.”
“Well, like I said, Fiona. My only intentions are to reunite Aileen with her brother, Murphy, who misses her very much. After that, what they decide to do is none of my business.” He finished his last bite of food then pushed his empty plate away, full and content for the first time in a long time. “Thank you for the meal, Fiona and Devon. It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome.” Fiona stood and began clearing the plates and Aileen joined her. “You just watch yourself, you hear?”
“Loud and clear.” Heath leaned back in his seat and watched as Aileen placed her handfuls of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink then whispered something to Fiona before going into the bathroom and closing the door. A niggle of instinct bored into his gut, but he brushed it off.
“I’m finishing my show now, dear,” Devon said to Fiona then left the table. Heath was alone. He waited and waited for Aileen to come out of the bathroom, but she didn’t.
His suspicions grew the longer he sat. He leaned forward and frowned at Fiona, who stood at the kitchen sink with her back to him. “Is she all right in there?”
No response.
Scowling, Heath got up and walked over to the bathroom door to knock lightly. “Aileen, you okay?”
Nothing.
Dammit. He’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Without consulting the MacLeans, Heath pulled a small leather packet from the back pocket of his jeans and knelt to pick the lock. Of all the dirty tricks to pull, this had to be the showstopper. He opened the door to find the bathroom empty and the small window across from the toilet open, leading to a rickety old fire escape outside.
Aileen was gone. Again.
* * *
As Aileen carefully maneuvered down the slick metal ladders of the fire escape, she couldn’t help questioning the wisdom of her own actions. Yes, she needed to get back to work on her story. After all, that’s why she’d put herself in dang
er in the first place and if she abandoned it now then it would all be for naught.
But then there was the problem of Heath Goldwin, III. Bad enough he was best buds with Murphy and treated her like a kid who needed a spanking most of the time. Now he had the audacity to make her like him. And not in an isn’t-he-a-nice-guy way either. That kiss in the park had curled her toes good from a lust perspective. Then he had to go and be all warm and cuddly with the MacLeans and make her picture a life with him past this mess they were currently involved in. Made her picture him with their kids—a girl and a boy, one with his blond hair and her amber eyes and the other with her dark hair and his gray gaze. Made her picture them sharing a house, a history. It was nuts.
She wasn’t looking for a relationship right now. She had her work, her career to think about. She wasn’t ready to settle down like that at the ripe old age of twenty-five, was she?
No. She was not. Her foot slipped off a rung and Aileen gripped the freezing cold metal tighter, hoping her bare palms wouldn’t stick to the wet steel. Would’ve been nice to get her coat and gloves before sneaking out, but that would’ve ruined everything. Heath was far too observant for his own good and it would have been weird to take that stuff into the bathroom with her. So, here she was, hanging off the side of a Manhattan brick building as big fat snowflakes pelted her face, two days before Christmas and probably catching pneumonia.
Way to go, idiot.
And yeah, she was Jewish, but that didn’t mean she still didn’t like all this cheesy, commercialized holiday stuff. She didn’t celebrate in the traditional Christian sense, but she could still get into the whole spirit of the season.
Shivering and wet, she made her way down the last ladder and set foot on solid ground once more, breathing a sigh of relief. She figured she’d sneak back into the lobby and beg the night watchman, Sid, to let her hang out in the back room until Heath was gone, then head back up to her apartment for dry clothes.
All I Want for Christmas is…: The Complete Series Page 27
