Some Like It Hotter

by Isabel Sharpe

“Gotcha,” Chris murmured. She knew what that meant. No pissing off the good customer. She turned with a chilly smile. “I’m Chris. I’ll be managing the—”

  “Eva’s sister.”

  “Yes.” She had a sinking feeling this jerk was Zac, the guy Eva was planning to marry if nothing else worked out. Her sister’s taste in men...well, it was pretty bad. Chris hadn’t found Mr. Forever yet, either, but at least her relationships were counted in months and years, not days and weeks. And she never dived into one without looking or thinking, the way her sister always did.

  “I’m Zac.” He looked her over in a way that set her teeth on edge. “Wow. For a twin, you are nothing like Eva.”

  Was that a compliment or an insult? She didn’t want him to think she cared either way. “I hear that a lot.”

  He stood and held out his hand, blue eyes crinkling in the corners, blond hair a few shades darker than Summer’s. He was taller than she expected, and hot, in a California surfer-dude kind of way. Totally not her type. “I hear you’re going to be around awhile.”

  “Just a month.” She turned back to Summer. “I’ll have a red eye, or whatever you call them here—coffee with a shot of espresso. And those reports? If you want, you can tell me where they are and I can get them.”

  “No, no, it’s no problem at all.” Summer stepped over to the espresso machine. “They’re easy to find.”

  “You should get more sleep.”

  Chris stiffened, unable to believe Zac had just said that to her. “What?”

  “Red eyes are caffeine on top of caffeine. If you treat your body well, it will give you all the energy you need on a lot fewer artificial stimulants.”

  “Yeah, okay, thanks, that’s good to know.” She groaned silently. This guy made Ames seem like a sweetheart. Too bad, because he looked like a more rugged version of Chris Hemsworth, aka Thor. But if he was a regular here, Chris would either have to learn how to handle him or tune him out—or have him abducted by aliens.

  “Forget the sales reports.” Zac put his hands on his hips, covered by worn jeans, which fit pretty fabulously, if you were prone to noticing stuff like that. Over them he wore a Dive and Surf T-shirt with a picture of a shark carrying a surfboard that had a huge bite taken out of it. “You should nap on the beach. You’re probably jet-lagged and your body needs—”

  “You know, I’m not really a nap-on-the-beach kind of girl.” She balanced the acid in her tone with a smile as genuine as she could make it and stepped closer to the counter. “But thanks, really. I appreciate your concern.”

  “Sure.” He didn’t move. “Do you surf?”

  “No!” She laughed. “Not a whole lot of that rolling in on Manhattan.”

  “You want to learn?”

  “No. No, thanks.” She tried to look politely regretful, but wanted to ask what he was smoking. Though this being mellow California, she might not want to know.

  “I bet I can change your mind.”

  “Huh.” She had to bite her cheek to keep from shouting at him. “Actually, it would be great if you didn’t.”

  “I’ll get those reports.” Summer thumped Chris’s red eye on the counter and disappeared into the back of the store, practically at a run.

  “So you got sick of the big city, huh?”

  Did he ever shut up? Chris turned back, arms folded. “What makes you think that?”

  “Eva told me. I promised I’d help with your transition.”

  “Oh. Thanks, that is so nice.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I’m an independent type. I’d rather find my own way around.”

  “Message received.” He held up his hands, took a few steps back. “Not a problem.”

  Whew. He did have an off button. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks anyway.”

  “Here you go.” Summer handed the reports across the counter. “Everything should be there.”

  “Thanks, Summer.” She left the store and stopped outside, face turned up to the sun, enjoying its warmth. Eva would have to fill her in on the best way to handle Zac. In the meantime, one of these tables out here was calling her name.

  Ten seconds after she’d settled and opened the sales report, a Zac-shaped shadow fell over her table. “Chris. Do me a favor.”

  Her stomach sank. The guy was a serious pest. “What’s that?”

  “Follow me. If you don’t like what I’m going to show you, you can come back here.”

  Her stomach twisted with irritation. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Look here.” He held his cell out in front of her nose. When she managed to focus, she saw a text. From her sister.

  Zac is awesome. Go with him. Trust me.

  “How did you—” Chris looked up in bewilderment, into his very blue eyes that were watching her with amusement, which made her want to growl again. “I thought you two had decided not to be in touch this month.”

  “This was an emergency.”

  Chris shut the report, praying for patience, and stood, radiating hostility she couldn’t help. “Okay, show me. But so help me, if this spot isn’t paradise on earth, I’ll—”

  “It is.” He ambled across the sidewalk, not looking to see if she’d follow.

  She did, but not willingly. In fact, during the walk she was wondering if there was anything she could put in his coffee that would keep him in bed for oh, say, exactly a month.

  Down La Playa they moseyed toward the Pacific. Could he not move any faster? Chris had to shorten her steps so she didn’t pass him, and her legs were shorter than his. What was he waiting for? Did he think she couldn’t keep up? That she was some dainty flower? Forget that, she did triathlons every summer.

  When she was just about ready to put a hand to his broad back and shove to make him go faster, they reached the end of the line of buildings and turned toward the beach.

  Okay, okay, it was beautiful. Really beautiful. A peaceful expanse of sand flattened smooth by waves. On either side, rocky cliffs topped with sparse green growth and low trees. Zac led her on a short stroll across the sand, then up a steep path to the top of the cliff on the north side.

  She followed him to a spot between two scrubby bushes, where a table and bench had been set up so the occupants would be sheltered while still being able to take in the Pacific, the cliffs and the mountains behind.

  “Wow.” Chris put her hands on her hips, shaking her head in defeat. “You were right. It’s perfect.”

  Zac shrugged his broad shoulders. “Seemed to me you can’t improve on much when you’re reading sales reports, but this might do it.”

  “It’s beautiful. Thanks for showing me. I’ll appreciate the quiet and privacy.” She brightened her voice and put the report on the table with her coffee, praying he’d get the hint and leave her alone.

  “Just you and the beautiful Central Coast.” He lifted his hand for a high five. “Be at peace.”

  Chris slapped his palm. Whatever. He was going. “Thanks.”

  “See ya around.”

  She managed a noncommittal “Mmm.” The second he was out of earshot, she furiously dialed her sister.

  “Eva! What did you let me in for?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This Zac person. He’s horrible.”

  “Zac? Horrible?”

  Chris rolled her eyes. She adored her sister, but sometimes she was much too...tolerant. Especially of guys. “He practically jumped down my throat. Told me I shouldn’t drink red eyes, that I shouldn’t read sales reports, shouldn’t sit at the Slow Pour...”

  “Oh, but isn’t it gorgeous there where he took you? The cliff seat above Aura Beach, right? I told him he should.”

  Chris wrinkled her nose, gazing around her at the wide, endless ocean. “Well...yes, it’s gorgeous.”

  “He wanted you to be happy.”

  “That’s not the point. I was perfectly happy sitting outside at Slow Pour.”

  “Aren’t you happier now?”

  “No, I’m completely exasperated with him. And
you!”

  Eva giggled, making Chris smile. “He’s a good guy, I promise.”

  “So what’s he going to do, come in every day and tell me how to live my life?”

  “Probably,” Eva said cheerfully.

  “Great.” Chris rolled her eyes. “Out of Ames’s frying pan and into Zac’s fire.”

  “Ooh, into Zac’s fire. Sounds like a sexy title. And speaking of sexy, you forgot to mention that Ames is a total hottie.”

  “Yeah...” Chris lifted her chin, letting the sun have at her face again. “He is kind of hot.”

  “Mmm.” Eva sighed.

  “Do not get any ideas. The guy’s a narcissist. Not your type at all.” It immediately occurred to her that Ames was Eva’s type, since she invariably went for guys who were wrong for her. But that didn’t mean she had to do it again.

  “No? We’ll see. Now sit down and enjoy the ocean for an hour or two.”

  “An hour or two? Staring at waves?” She snorted. “Not me. But it is a beautiful place to work.”

  “Chris, you just arrived! Enjoy the place!”

  “I am enjoying it. It’s stunning up here. Now leave me alone while I study your sales reports.”

  “You are hopeless.”

  “I know.” She ended the call reminding her sister of a couple of restaurant suggestions in her neighborhood on Eighty-Seventh Street, and settled back with her report.

  Hmm. Sales okay, fairly steady, but not really taking off. Looked a lot like her own track record in New York, except most of Eva’s traffic occurred midmorning and midafternoon, NYEspresso’s dead times. In a place like—

  “Whoa, sorry, man. Didn’t realize someone was here.”

  Chris looked up, startled. She hadn’t heard anyone com—

  Oh, my God.

  Dark windblown hair. Blue eyes. Shorts and T-shirt revealing a gorgeous body. Warm, white-toothed smile. The hottest guy she’d ever seen.

  Her heart launched into triple time. She was unable to speak or return his smile, just sat there staring in a flood of hormones.

  When was the last time a guy had affected her like this? Not John, not Rob, not even Steve, her most serious boyfriend. This crazy, overwhelming reaction was a first. What did it mean?

  Something really good.

  She took a deep breath and indicated the other half of the table. “Have a seat. There’s plenty of room.”

  3

  “GUY CHAUMONT PINOT Noir. Three cases? Four? Like last time. Okay, glad you enjoyed it.” Ames scribbled on his notepad. “He’s got an excellent Chardonnay, too. Twenty-ten, a classic dry Burgundy, with apple and melon notes, great with vegetarian and vegan dishes. Want me to bring a bottle when I see you Thursday? Okay, good. And the Chateau Moulin Bordeaux, too? Excellent. Nice talking with you and I’ll see you Thursday at two. Right. Bye.”

  Ames tossed his pen onto the desk in the office he’d set up in one of his condo’s extra bedrooms. Working from home was one of the greatest perks of his job and also one of its greatest challenges. Days like today, when he was restless and irritated, there was no one else around to bring him out of it except Jean, his Tuesdays-and-Thursdays cleaning woman, cook and sometimes assistant, who was convinced he couldn’t live without her. She might be right. But her way of bringing him out of a funk was to tell him exactly how he was living his life wrong.

  Didn’t seem to help.

  Finding out that Chris Meyer had left New York and flown about as far away over land as possible without telling him hurt more than Ames had expected. He’d been settling in for a slow and steady campaign to win her, and had thought he might be making some progress. To put it mildly, this didn’t look good.

  He pulled his laptop closer and brought up the file on Manhattan Vine, one of the biggest chains of liquor stores in the city, an account he’d singlehandedly landed for Boyce Wines, a coup that had been instrumental in getting him promoted in the venerable company. He’d spent the morning visiting retailers to check signage and point-of-purchase placement and probing managers for their openness to hosting wine-tasting events. He was thinking some of Manhattan Vine’s east-side stores might be a good place to push Boyce’s higher-priced wines now that the midlevel bottles had done pretty well.

  Funny, the second he’d laid eyes on Chris he’d felt a pull, as if she was familiar somehow, as if he already knew her and it was only a matter of getting through the formalities of preliminary dates before they’d be together in a way Ames felt certain would be significant. He’d felt that way only once before about a woman and had ended up dating Sarah for four years before they came to a mutual realization that it was time to commit or break up, and they’d both chosen the latter.

  In the intervening years, he’d dated casually here and there, but either he didn’t fit her ideal or she didn’t fit his. Until he saw Chris and felt so strongly that she had it all. Yes, she’d been reluctant, but he’d dealt with reluctance before and had overcome it with patience and low-key persistence.

  This time...not so much.

  Her crazy sister, though—man, that woman was...something else. Eva had looked at Ames as if he was her next meal. No, not quite that. More as if he was her favorite dessert. She’d made him uncomfortable, uneasy and also weirdly curious. Underneath all the look-at-me trappings she was attractive, and seemed spirited and funny. But definitely not his type the way her sister was. Beautiful, elegant, sophisticated, Chris was the kind of woman a guy could take anywhere and she’d fit right in, from a baseball game to one of the high-end restaurants and wine bars he frequented for business and pleasure. At the end of the month he’d hoped to take her to Boyce’s annual dinner at La Grenouille Laide, one of New York’s finest restaurants, and the company’s most formal and important event, to which all their best clients and top sales people were invited. Delores, Mike Boyce’s battle-ax secretary, had been on him to RSVP.

  A reminder popped up on his laptop to call the Restless Armadillo restaurant, which hadn’t placed an order in a while. He picked up his phone.

  “I hope you’re not staying home working again tonight.” Jean, tiny and tough, about as New York as a person could get, never missed an opportunity to criticize everything possible about him. He adored her.

  “How do you know I was home working last night?”

  She tapped her temple. “I know.”

  “I have to work, Jean.” He shook his head mournfully. “I have this really expensive assistant who all but drains my bank account every month.”

  “I’m playing the violin, boohoo. You’re still young—what are you, thirty?”

  “Thirty-three.”

  “Single and home at night. Sheesh.” She threw up her hands. “I’m telling you, you’re a catch. Even Manny says he’d date you. You should be out there finding someone to make you happy.”

  “Uh.” He pretended distaste. “Your husband isn’t really my type...”

  “He’s kidding, he’s kidding. But I’m not.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, dark eyes enormous through her thick glasses. “Go out tonight. This stuff you’re doing will keep. Your youth won’t. You need to live.”

  “It’s four o’clock. I need to get my work done so I can—”

  The apartment phone rang, interrupting their latest standoff.

  “I’ll get it.” She sent Ames a by now familiar look of disgust and stomped into the living room. “Hello?...Oh, hey, Frank....Uh-huh....Really?”

  Ames stretched at his desk. Frank was the doorman. Probably letting them know about another change in the garbage pickup schedule.

  “Sure, I’ll hold.” Jean appeared in the doorway of his office, phone held to her ear. “You expecting someone?”

  “Nope.”

  “Maybe God answered my prayer and FedEx sent a nice single woman whose shift is just ending.”

  “Not expecting a package, either.”

  “You— Yes, Frank....Who?...Oh, I see....Is she pretty?...Young?...Uh-huh....Oh, she does?...Okay, sure,
send her up.”

  “What was that?”

  Jean ended the call triumphantly. “I got you a date.”

  “You what?”

  “You heard me.” Jean disappeared from sight into the living room.

  “Who is it?” he called after her.

  “Someone you know, don’t worry. She’s on her way up.” Jean reappeared wearing her coat and a Yankees ball cap. “Anything you want me to do before I leave you to your wild night?”

  “Yes.” He stood behind his desk, hands on his hips, exasperated and a little curious. He couldn’t think of any female friend who’d drop by during business hours without calling first. They all knew better. “Intercept whoever it is and tell her sorry, I’m busy, and to call first next time.”

  “Look at you all grumpy over a woman.” Jean scowled at him. “You’re a big boy, you tell her. I’m gone.”

  Ames rolled his eyes, more amused than annoyed. The visitor could be his college friend Kathy, back from a European tour. He’d lost track of her return date. Still, it would be strange of her not to call first.

  The apartment doorbell rang. Jean’s footsteps thudded over to get it.

  “She’s here already. The girl moves fast. I like her already.” The front door opened. “Hello. I’m Jean Kajowski, Ames’s hot live-in girlfriend. Just kidding. I keep house for him a couple days a week, though he doesn’t like me calling it that. Don’t worry, I was just leaving.”

  “Hi, Jean, nice to meet you.” The voice was musical, sweet and vaguely familiar. “I’m Eva Meyer.”

  Ames sat back down abruptly. Eva was here? At his condo? How had she found his address?

  “Hi, Eva. Oh, my God, your boots are adorable!” Jean was clearly smitten. “Come in, come in. He’s in the office, probably shy. But he’s not busy tonight, so don’t let him tell you that he is. I’m off—bye you two.”

  Ames turned his eyes to the ceiling. Give him strength. “Bye, Jean, see you Thursday.”

  “Only if I live that long.” The door closed behind her standard response.

  Ames blinked at his office door. He could get up. But she’d stalked him here—she could come in on her own.