by Jo Leigh
Shannon liked the song, although she never gave it a thought outside of weddings or elevators, but the beat was good, and she was feeling fine. Happy. She’d recruited Ariel, been completely surprised by Nate and no one had asked her to sing or do any step dancing. It had been part of her repertoire as a young girl, but she’d let it go when she entered high school. Sadly, the family hadn’t.
She moved to the music, got her rhythm then smiled at Nate. Ten seconds later, it was all she could do not to burst out laughing.
He was awful. The kind of awful that had to be genetic because no one would choose to dance that way. None of his limbs seemed connected to any of his other limbs, and what was he doing with his head?
She squeaked as she held her smile in place, and he was grinning right back at her as if he owned the whole dance floor.
Danny and Megan swung close by and Danny, her complete ass of a brother, slugged Nate in the shoulder, laughing so hard he had to stop everything else. “You are the saddest excuse for a white guy I have ever seen on a dance floor. Jesus, Nate, you look like someone stuck a firecracker up your ass.”
Nate grinned at Danny and kept on doing…whatever it was he was doing. “I am my own man in every way,” he said—no, shouted—then he spun around in an oval. “You don’t recognize true artistic expression, you heathen. Be gone.” He flapped his hand, although it was pretty much what he was doing already.
She laughed. But not because he was a total dork. Because he embraced being a dork. Her hand, she noticed, was over her heart, and despite the music and the utter chaos around her, all she could think was that Nate hadn’t just grown into a really good-looking man, he’d also become completely adorable.
The music stopped, but only for a second, and the next song was faster, wilder, and she let go. By God, she let herself dance as if she were in her bedroom, as if no one were watching. Like Nate.
His laughter hit her as she spun around, and she couldn’t help returning it. They’d earned themselves a nice slice of dance floor, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so free. The song ended too soon, and the two of them fell together to gasp in some much-needed breath.
“That was fantastic,” he said.
“It was.”
“Not a lot of women appreciate my unique style.”
“They’re fools and cretins.”
“Ah, Shannon. You’re too kind.”
“Oh, I’m not. I’m really, really not.”
Another song started, but this one was a slow tune, a romantic number that made her wonder if she should beg off, or…
He slipped his arms around her waist and started moving. Nothing fabulous, but also nothing uniquely styled. She found it easy to put her hands on his shoulders, to let her heartbeat slow.
“Adventures, huh?”
He shook his head a little. Met her gaze. “Of a sort.”
“Danny mentioned you’d gone to help out after the Indonesian tsunami.”
Nate nodded. “I did. I had skills, they needed help.”
“And now?”
“They still need it. A lot of people do. I work for an organization that sends me where I can do some good.”
Someone bumped her from behind, pushing her against Nate’s body from knee to chest. Her first instinct was to put space between them, but there was also something else going on that wasn’t the crowd and certainly wasn’t dancing. There was no way not to look at him, and he was watching her as if they were alone in the room. He’d felt the tension, that was clear. A frisson went through her, and he felt that, too.
Another bump, but this one parted them the way she hadn’t been able to.
He swallowed, glanced around at the crowd, then back at her. “I could use a drink after all that self-expression. Do you mind? Our table’s open. I can get us drinks.”
Thank goodness. She had no idea what the hell was up with those last few moments and she needed some space to get her breath back. “Great. White wine for me, please.”
“Rebel.”
She grinned. “That’s me.”
He walked her to the table and her smile faded as she watched him make his way to the bar. If he’d been anyone else, she’d have known what all that sizzle and smoke had been about. Any other guy. Part of her wanted to apologize and assure him she hadn’t meant to press against him so intimately. But since she had… No. That wasn’t at all what she wanted to tell him. She had no idea what she wanted to say. Mostly because she hadn’t been able to read him. For a moment, she’d thought… But that was ridiculous.
He’d been a hellion as a kid. Forever taking risks, talking big. It had gotten him into a lot of messes, and he’d dragged Danny along for most of those, but he’d always been welcome in the Fitzgerald home. Especially since his folks had worked such long hours.
She had to wonder if he were still reckless, ready to jump into crazy situations without a second thought. His work sounded like something to be proud of, but also dangerous. Although she had to consider she’d known only the boy, not the man. Fourteen years was a long time, and she sure wasn’t the girl she’d been back then. Or maybe she was. It was sometimes hard to tell.
While he was out of sight, she freshened her lipstick, practically the only thing she’d had room for in her purse aside from the small pen and notepad, a twenty and breath mints. Stupid little thing. At least the bridesmaid’s dress was nice. Not great, just a simple sleeveless sheath with a sweetheart neckline. In the past year alone, Shannon had been forced to wear five dresses that would never see the light of day again. At least this time she hadn’t been the maid of honor.
She suspected all her friends and relatives asked her because of her connections. Being in charge of sales and marketing for the printing plant meant she was on a first-name basis with almost every vendor from Chelsea all the way down to the Village.
“What’s that scowl about?”
Nate put down her glass as well as his big mug of beer, then sat across from her. It caused a stir inside her that was frankly inappropriate. Good grief, she had to get over this. What she should be excited about was putting him on a trading card. A man with his looks, his international lifestyle, his unforgettable dancing needed to be out there. And the good women of St. Marks lunch exchange needed a breath of fresh air.
He’d had a good haircut. Not overstyled, but neat. Whoever had had him on the chair understood that his high forehead was an asset, and that he could carry a longer sideburn than most.
“You’re good-looking,” she said. Then froze. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Grabbing his beer, he paused. “What’s that?”
Oh, what the hell. She was busy, he was busy, after tonight she probably wouldn’t see him again for another ten years. “You. I thought you were okay when you were in high school, but now you’re actually handsome.”
He fought a smile for a long minute. “Thank you?”
“You’re welcome. Now, what was the good news you were supposed to tell me?”
“I’m moving in. With you.”
2
NATE WATCHED HER EXPRESSION change from surprise to greater surprise. He sipped his beer to hide his grin.
“Oh?” she said, sounding as disinterested as a person who absolutely wasn’t.
He nodded. “I was staying at Hotel Giraffe, but your mom had a fit, so now I’m moving in tomorrow.”
“Danny’s, Myles’s or Tim’s?”
He huffed out a laugh. “You think I’d risk my life in anyone’s but Myles’s room? Your brothers are savages.”
She’d gotten herself under control, which was a pity. At least, her exterior was collected as could be, but he wondered. That dance… Not the first two, because he was under no illusions that he looked anything but preposterous attempting to move to music. Luckily for him, he’d quit worrying. He had other good qualities. Besides, if someone didn’t like it they could piss right off.
He was actually thinking of the slow dance, the one where he
’d felt her breasts against his chest. The one he’d had to cut short in case she felt his reaction.
There it was. The big deal, the shock, the bewildering new reality. Shannon had grown up to be an absolute stunner. She’d been a gorgeous kid, so why it was such a surprise wasn’t clear, but he doubted anyone could have guessed she’d turn into the goddamn Venus on the Half Shell.
It started with her hair. Thick and past her shoulders, it was a lush, fiery red-orange wonder. Especially when she used both hands to sweep it off her neck before letting it fall.
“There’s plenty of room at the house these days,” she said. “How long will you be in residence?”
They’d been talking. He’d forgotten. “I’m supposed to be back in Bali by the middle of May. But I’m hoping to wrap things up here sooner than that.”
“Oh. I thought you were looking to buy a town house.”
“I am,” he said, keeping his gaze straight ahead so he didn’t get derailed again. “Mostly because I need the expenses to offset my capital gains. I’ll sublet the place, but first I have to find something, then furnish it.” He exhaled, happy that he’d found a topic so boring that his still-too-interested cock would settle in for the night.
Shit, the feeling of her in his arms revisited, and so much for boring capital-gains talk. She’d been a straight-as-a-board kid when he’d moved to his place at New York University, thirteen and a complete drama queen. Every time she spoke it was life or death, where she was the center of the universe, and none of her brothers had much patience. Especially when she kept popping up when he and Danny had convinced girls that they wouldn’t be caught sneaking into the house after ten because Mom and Dad Fitzgerald’s bedroom was on the third floor and they slept like the dead.
“In Gramercy?”
He had no idea why she’d asked… Oh. “I don’t care where it is. Or what. Duplex, town house, row house, apartment. It needs to be in Manhattan, needs to be managed so that I can be gone most of the year without worrying, and it would be nice if it brought in some decent money. If you have any ideas or know of anything, that would be great.”
“I’ll ask around.”
“Thanks.” He picked up his beer again, she lifted her wine, and then she turned to look out at the dance floor and his shoulders sagged in relief.
This was Shannon. Little Shannon. He’d known her since he was eight, and she’d been a pest for the next ten years. But now she had curves and legs that went all the way down to the ground, perfect white teeth and deep green eyes. For a natural redhead, she had fewer freckles than he would have imagined, and oh, God, she was a natural redhead, which meant that all her hair was—
“I might know of something in the Flatiron District, come to think of it,” she said, and she was looking at him again.
Great. He refused to even acknowledge the jerk in his crotch because he was thirty-two and Shannon had practically been his sister back in the day. “Hey,” he said, leaning over the table, focusing, “you were always redecorating your room.”
Shannon laughed. “I was a teenage girl. That wasn’t decorating, that was illustrating. I was constantly falling madly in love with movie stars or deeply wounded singers.”
“Your bedroom always looked nice. Smelled great, too.”
“Yes, because I wasn’t a savage who left my unwashed gym clothes to stew on the floor for months.”
“Oh.” Nate leaned back. “That actually makes sense. We were pigs, weren’t we?”
She gave him an eye-roll. “I gather you want some assistance with the furnishings?”
He shook his head. “More than that. I need someone to help me find the right place, then furnish it. A woman’s touch would be welcome. I’ve been building basic housing for a long time, living in tents or huts. I don’t know the market at all. But I can hire someone if you’re too swamped.”
“I imagine I can take some time out of my busy schedule for an old friend.”
He slapped back the rest of his beer and met her gaze again. He was going to be living in the same house as this newly sexualized Shannon, in the room next to hers. He might as well get this out so he could get on with things. “You’re still a beauty,” he said, his low voice carrying over a sad Irish love song. “More now than when you were in all those crazy pageants. You must have every man with a heartbeat after you, Princess. Every one.”
The blush that blossomed on her cheeks spread like a light show. He used to make her blush as a parlor trick, something that would make her furious and hopefully storm off to her room. Now he found the contrast of her pale skin and the fire of her emotions far too fascinating.
“You’re going to cause trouble, aren’t you, Nate Brenner?” she asked, just loudly enough for him to hear.
“As much as humanly possible,” he admitted. Then he smiled, because what the hell else was there to do about it? “Will you excuse me?”
“Sure,” she said, her look suspicious.
Close to the bar he decided beer wasn’t going to cut it. He ordered a boilermaker and drank it down right there on the spot.
* * *
“IS HE?”
Shannon almost dropped her glass at the whisper behind her. It was Ariel, who didn’t seem at all sorry for sneaking up on her like a thief. “Is who what?”
“Single.” Ariel had to lift her head to see Nate standing with Danny in the midst of the crowd. Midnight, and hardly anyone had left the now stifling room.
“Yes, he is,” Shannon said. “But he’s not here for long.”
“He doesn’t have to be. All I’d need is one night.”
Shannon frowned at her cousin. She’d been sweating—everyone was—and dark tendrils of hair were stuck to her face and neck. The way Ariel gasped for breath was more a result of the dancing she’d been up to than her interest in Nate… Still, Shannon could be mistaken about that. Ariel looked ready to pounce.
“If I do put him on a card, you’ll have to be quick. It’s first come, first served.”
“Did you see how I caught the bouquet?” she asked. “I hate being single. I honestly do. It’s a pity your guy isn’t going to be around for the long haul. I like his laugh. That’s huge for me. A sense of humor. You can get through most anything if you can find something to laugh about.”
“You met him?”
Ariel sighed. “I did. He was great. But he was very involved in a conversation with Danny. Evidently I wasn’t enough to distract him.”
“Let me guess,” Shannon said. “Notre Dame?”
Ariel rolled her eyes. “I swear, I could have stripped right down to nothing and neither of them would have blinked.”
“I doubt that. But I don’t think they’ve seen each other since college. All those games to catch up on.”
“At least he was funny.”
“Humor’s on the top of my list, too,” Shannon said. “Along with shared values. And kindness.”
“Don’t forget great in the sack,” Ariel said, still craning her neck to gaze at Nate.
“I can’t help you with that one.”
“You’ve never…?”
“No. Nothing remotely like that.”
“Pity.”
“Not really. He left when I was thirteen.”
“God, it’s broiling in here. Can’t they open some windows?”
“I don’t think it’ll help. There’s a hundred and fifty drunk people dancing like fools.”
Ariel grinned at her. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? I want my wedding to be just like this. Friendly, open. Plenty of booze and good food. If I ever have a wedding.”
“That’s what the trading cards are for.” Shannon thought about how Rebecca Thorpe and Jake Donnelly were living together now. Part-time in Brooklyn and part-time in the Upper East Side. Shannon had the feeling they’d end up married. They were wildly in love.
“You, too, huh?”
Shannon must have let her envy show. “Yes, I would very much like to be married. So far my dates have been fun. Bu
t no magic.”
Ariel shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if magic is too much to hope for.”
“Of course it’s not,” Shannon said. “A little bit of magic is in every good love story. I’m sure of it.”
* * *
THE BROWNSTONE WAS A RELIC of a New York long gone. All three stories in the row house belonged to the Fitzgerald family, and since the third grade it had been more a home to Nate than his own.
At noon, the taxi pulled away, leaving him with his suitcase and duffel bag. The traditional wedding hangover lingered, but even so, approaching the red door on 3rd Avenue in Gramercy Park made him feel like a kid. The last time he’d been there had been pre-NYU. Before Danny went to study graphic design in Boston.
He banged on the knocker, the one Mr. Fitz had replaced after the Baseball Incident. Nate liked this one better. It was in the shape of a shillelagh, and it was loud.
Mrs. Fitz opened the door and, yeah, he was ten again, or fourteen, or eight, and all the years in between and around because she looked the same to him. Her hair was mostly gray now, but for a pale woman who seemingly had more freckles than skin, he saw remarkably few signs of the passing years. Then there was her frown. She wore it most of the time, and it put some people off. But he knew better. That was Danny’s mom, worrying about her brood. She’d always said life in her house was most frightening when it got quiet, and she’d been right.
“Get a move on, Nathan—” and there was a hint of a brogue even though she’d been born and raised in New York “—you’re letting in all the flies.”
He dragged his rolled case and duffel bag across the threshold into the entry hall, then put the duffel on the big wooden bench, almost expecting his snow boots to be underneath on the boot mat. “It’s good to be home,” he said.
When he turned to smile at Mrs. Fitz, she was smiling right back, a rare and wonderful sight. “As long as we live here, boyo.”
He wanted to throw his arms around her neck, it was so terrific to see her again. She’d been a major part of his life, and he didn’t think of her often enough. But as big as their hearts were, the Fitzgeralds weren’t huggers. Except for Shannon apparently.
