by Jo Leigh
Even the pounding of the pressrun and the offset rollers couldn’t compete with the hammering in her heart as Nate approached. He nodded at Brady, then caught her eye.
She knew she should smile. It was only polite. She managed a delayed blink instead.
He pointed to the offices—to her office—and she stumbled forward, got her feet steady and led him, squeezing her hands into tight fists until she held her door open, waiting for him.
As he passed, his hand brushed the back of hers, the clenching hand flexing open, reaching, but for only a second. She closed the door, automatically pulling out her earplugs and dropping them in the small ceramic bowl she used only for that purpose.
Nate slipped his coat off, hung it on the hook on the back of the door. She used the time to move behind her desk. When he turned to face her, he seemed disconcerted that she’d crossed the room so quickly.
“You know, I think I recognized a couple of people out there,” he said. “Discounting Brady. But it’s been years since my last visit. I was in high school, I think, working that summer before I went to NYU.”
“That makes sense. Some of our employees have been with us over twenty years.”
“I seem to remember there were more of them.”
She wet her bottom lip, wished she had a bottle of water in the office as her throat felt parched. “We’ve had to downsize. Like most of the businesses around here. It’s tough out there these days.”
He took a couple of steps, but didn’t head for a chair.
She wasn’t sure if he was waiting for her to sit first or— “What are you doing here?”
He got that startled look again. Eyes widened, lips parted, a tiny little jerk of his head. Then he smiled, and he went back to looking like regular Nate. Calm, confident, as if he knew something she didn’t. “I was hoping to talk for a few minutes, if that’s okay with you.”
All she had to do was say no. That she was due in a meeting, that it wasn’t a good time. Then she remembered his text, and her response.
“Well, it depends what you need because I’m not off-the-clock yet. But I did think that condo was a good deal.”
“I’m not here about real estate,” he said, taking yet another step.
She pulled her office chair closer, as if the desk weren’t enough of a barrier. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ve canceled my date with Ariel,” he said. “I thought you should know.”
Shannon hadn’t expected that. Not even a little. “Why?”
Nate grinned again. “I hope it doesn’t make things uncomfortable between the two of you. It was nothing to do with her. I told her that, and I think she was fine. It wasn’t as if there was much for her to be disappointed about.”
“What are you talking about?” Shannon stepped away from the chair and rounded her desk. “You’re great looking, you work for Architects Without Borders or whatever, but the bottom line is you’re a hero who is helping all kinds of people who’ve just gone through the worst thing living can throw at them, and you’re funny. Not how you used to be—you and Danny, God, you were awful when you were kids with all that bathroom humor—but now there’s wit there which I wish I could say about my brother. So don’t go saying you’re not much, because that’s not true at all. She’d be lucky to go out with you.”
Nate’s stare was a mix of wonder and bewilderment, at least that’s what it looked like from her end. She had gotten carried away a little, but it was because she was nervous, and when she got nervous things got jumbled if she didn’t have a script or a routine or prepared answers to questions she’d been asked a hundred times.
“I meant,” he said carefully, “because we didn’t know each other. Me and Ariel. For all she knew I could be the worst date in New York. I don’t think I am, but that’s pretty subjective.”
She inhaled. Exhaled. Stared at his hazel eyes, at the gentleness of his smile. He had great teeth, just great. White and even, and his lips, they were exactly the right size for his face. He was really good-looking, but in a nonthreatening way. He didn’t beat you over the head with it. In fact, he made her relax, when she wasn’t being an idiot and thinking about what his body looked like under that suit. “Well, okay, then. Thanks for telling me.” She turned, walked back around the desk and pulled the chair in front of her once more.
* * *
NATE BURST OUT LAUGHING, BUT caught it fast with a quick fake cough covered by his hand. But damn, it was hard not to just let go. His head had been spinning since the minute he’d seen Shannon’s face when he’d walked into the plant. She’d seemed paralyzed and frantic at the same time. He couldn’t hear shit, but maybe that had made him notice the way her eyes got huge and her breathing quickened, and how she looked like she was waiting for the starting gun to go off.
The fists had made him doubt the wisdom in coming to see her. He never wanted to make her anxious, and if clenching her hands so tightly her knuckles paled wasn’t a sign of anxiety, he didn’t know what was.
The big giant question was what she wanted to run from. Him? Had he said something horrendous and not known it? Did something happen between the condo and the taxicab that had fundamentally changed her attitude toward him? Maybe it was a memory, an awful thing he’d done as a kid that she’d repressed until the moment he’d mentioned knishes.
But if she suddenly had realized he was someone to run from, what the hell was all that about his being a hero, and how he was great looking—
She thought he was great looking. That was cool. It wasn’t what he lived for, but it was nice to hear, especially when she was such a knockout.
It didn’t matter. Because knockout or not, he couldn’t do anything about it until he understood what her deal was. He waited until she was looking at him again, and when their gazes met, he said, “What’s going on, Shannon?”
She froze again. “What do you mean?”
“The cab yesterday. This morning. Have I done something? Said something to offend you?”
“No!” she said, way too loudly for the room. About an octave too high, as well. “No, don’t be silly.” Her cheeks had started to get pink and as she kept looking at anything but him, plucking at the top of her chair, moving sideways, away, a quarter-inch at a time— “Of course not.”
Nate turned his head, looked behind him, expecting a person, a camera, something that would explain this completely insane sketch-comedy routine of hers. As far as he could tell, it was the two of them, alone, and she’d gone off her rocker.
“Did you want coffee?” she asked, brightly. “I think we have doughnuts left, but they won’t be the good ones. Nothing cream-filled or glazed. Everyone goes for those first.”
“Nope, I’m good,” he said.
“So no coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
She continued to pluck at the back of her chair. Gave him a disarming smile when the time had stretched past the awkward stage. “Tea?”
“Shannon. Please? You’re my…” He hesitated, uncertain what to call her. “I admit we weren’t very close when we were kids, but we’re not kids anymore, and I’ve enjoyed talking to you. Getting to know you now. As a friend.” He stepped a little closer, afraid if he moved too far too fast, he’d spook her and she really would make a run for it. “As a woman. The other night at Molly’s, that was a good time, wasn’t it? And in the mornings when we’ve had coffee? I mean, you came to the rescue yesterday about the condo, and then, I don’t even know what happened. I must have upset you somehow, and if I did, I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional.”
“You didn’t.”
Her voice was so low he wasn’t completely sure he’d heard right. “What?”
“You didn’t. Upset me.”
“Then why am I making you so nervous? I don’t understand.”
She looked so uncomfortable, it made him want to do whatever it took to relax her. But he had no jokes at the ready, nothing, in fact, that would change things. Except to leave, and he wasn’t going to do
that. It would drive him insane for this to continue, to not know. If it truly was his interest in her that was at the heart of things, he’d stop. He wasn’t sure how, but he would. He wouldn’t let himself linger over thoughts of her, would turn away when all he wanted to do was drink her in like champagne.
“It’s not you,” she said, and then it seemed as if she were going to explain everything. But she didn’t. Instead she lowered her head a fraction. “It’s work. There are so many people doing their own printing now, and we’ve had to make adjustments. The employees are having a difficult time. We’ve had to end the medical plan here, which is a blow to everyone. But it was bleeding us dry. I’m going to get new customers, though. Before you know it, we’ll be right back to full capacity. In fact, I’m meeting with a rep from Carnation foods. Printing can labels is a very lucrative market that we never pursued. And then there’s print-on-demand for novels, that’s a whole new field.”
He didn’t believe her. Not that the plant was having financial difficulties, that was to be expected. But what was going on between the two of them had nothing to do with her job. “And that’s what freaked you out on the street? When you jumped in the cab? Right that minute, you realized things were hard at work?”
The pink in her cheeks remained steady, but Shannon turned her body to the right, as if she were going to move to the big filing cabinet that stood in the corner. “No, not right that second.”
“Shannon? I…”
Her shoulders rose then fell, and she turned to face him, her smile not nearly reaching her eyes. “I should really get back to work.”
“Right,” he said. He wanted to kick the chair he hadn’t taken. He’d never been in a situation like this before. But he couldn’t see how he could force her into telling him the truth. Then a thought hit him, and he grew concerned. “You’re all right? You’re not sick or anything?”
“No. I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong, Nate. I’m sorry my behavior seems erratic, but I’ve always been weird. I’ve heard you call me that enough times.”
“That was different. You and your tiaras.”
“I was a little kid,” she said. “With four big brothers who liked nothing more than tormenting me and making my life a living hell. And you were no better.”
“I’m sorry about that. Princess.”
“Hey,” she said, and for the first time since last night she smiled at him for real. “It was more my mother’s idea than mine.”
“You loved it, though. Being on stage, doing all that twirling around. Singing and posing.”
She nodded. “I did.”
“By the time I was old enough to appreciate your talents, I was too busy going through puberty to pay attention. I’m sorry about that, too.”
“You didn’t miss all that much.”
“I think I missed a great deal,” he said, and his voice had gone low and rough as he moved right next to her massive wooden desk.
There it was again. The look from this morning. Raw and real and there was no way he was getting this wrong. He rounded the desk and shoved her damn chair right back into the wall. Her head tilted up, and her pink lips parted.
He took hold of her arms and pulled her into a kiss that blocked out every single thing but the taste, the feel and the scent of Shannon Fitzgerald.
8
SHANNON STOPPED. STOPPED breathing, moving, thinking. His lips. Her lips. Together. Kissing. Oh.
Then his tongue, the tip of his tongue, slipped over her bottom lip, and sparks shot through her like fireworks, and she gave up, gave in. Her hands went to his hips, under his jacket, and she steadied herself as she touched him, as she parted her lips and took what he offered.
Thinking would come later. Now was for goose bumps and heat. She’d wanted this so much, and even if she had to stop, because at some point they’d have to, she wouldn’t have to give this back.
Nothing between them could go beyond the press of his mouth and the slide of her tongue, but she could have the memory and that was something.
She felt him pull back, and maybe it was just to breathe, or to change his angle, but what if it wasn’t? She followed him, leaning forward, chasing him. It couldn’t be over, not yet, not when they may not ever…
His breath on her lips and her chin, the loss, made her open her eyes. He was still close, still gripping her arms, but he looked startled, as if he weren’t sure how he’d ended up in this kiss. Not sorry, though. Smiling. As if he might laugh or shout, and it wasn’t at all a surprise when he looked around the office for a second or two, because she needed to get her bearings, too.
He came back to her, though. His smile settled down, his eyes darkened, and he stared at her. His right hand floated near her face before his fingertips brushed the path of her blush up her cheek to her temple. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, then winced slightly. “More than beautiful. How did that happen? When?”
“You went away.”
“And you became a gorgeous woman.”
She doubted she could blush harder. “You came back better, too.”
“Older, at least.” His fingers moved through her hair, carefully, slowly. “Hopefully wiser.”
“Definitely better,” she said, momentarily panicked that wiser meant he knew they shouldn’t be doing this.
“I don’t want to stop.”
She stepped closer to him, letting more of her body press against his. “No one’s asking you to.”
“But—”
“Not yet,” she whispered as her eyes were closing. “Please.”
“No, not yet,” he repeated before he kissed her again.
It didn’t seem possible, but the second kiss was better. She could feel how she affected him, and not only by the passion of his kiss, the slide of his tongue, but also by the pressure on her hip from his burgeoning arousal.
“Shannon,” he whispered as he pulled back, then his mouth was on hers again, as if that tiny distance had been too much to handle.
His hands had grown as possessive as his lips, running over her shoulders, her back, the curve of her bottom.
She smiled against his mouth, right in the middle of the kiss. Then she pushed her hips forward. Nothing major, not a bump or a grind, just a yes, permission to move again, to keep stealing her breath with his desire.
How she wished there weren’t all these clothes between them. She had been aching to touch his bare chest since that moment in the—
A knock on her door made her gasp and jump back as if it had been a gunshot.
Somehow Nate was a good foot away from her, his eyes panicked. She had the feeling she appeared as guilty as he did. Fortunately for her, she didn’t have an obvious erection to worry about. “Sit down,” she said.
He nodded, went around her desk. Sitting wasn’t enough, he had to cross his legs.
She pulled her chair back, then ran her hands down her blazer and slacks. She exhaled, hoping like hell she wasn’t as red as a beet as she opened the door.
Brady barely glanced at her. “I could use your help,” he said, then turned and headed back to the floor.
Shannon closed the door, leaned her head against it and tried to catch her breath.
“I’ll go in a minute,” Nate said.
“Okay,” she said. “Thanks for…”
He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you later.”
She left her office, remembering at the last second to take her earplugs with her.
All she could think was that she’d just made the biggest mistake ever. How was it possible to feel like this after one kiss?
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER NATE STILL couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. He hadn’t planned it. If he had it wouldn’t have happened in her office with dozens of people around. But then maybe that had been a good thing. Or else he doubted he could’ve stopped. They both sure as hell had some thinking to do.
He came up on an old haunt of his and Danny’s—the basketball court three blocks down from the Fitzgeral
ds’—amazed that at this time of day it wasn’t jammed with kids. He couldn’t remember ever finding the place empty. It didn’t make sense, until he climbed over the fence and almost broke his neck landing on a crack in the asphalt.
The court was situated in a corner field belonging to a family who owned a bunch of drugstores. They’d turned it into a basketball court, put in lights for night games, built risers, made it nice. There’d been never-ending graffiti on the two walls, and the big fence had gone up when Nate had been fourteen. But everyone in the neighborhood played there. Kept things civil.
Guess the goodwill had run out. Or maybe a basketball court didn’t mean all that much when people were having trouble feeding their families. It still made him sad, and he debated chucking it in and going to Molly’s for a beer instead.
What the hell. It was a Friday at four-thirty, so maybe he’d shoot some hoops, see if he could get a game of one-on-one. If not, he’d still burn up some energy. He’d always done his best thinking while sweating.
He tossed his jacket on a low riser, grateful he’d brought the basketball he’d found in Myles’s room. Dribbling took on a whole new dimension as he zigzagged to miss the cracks and gouges. At least the hoop was still in play, even if the backboard was half-gone.
He stood where he imagined the free-throw line was, shot and missed. That wasn’t a big surprise. He hadn’t played in a long time.
In Bali, where he stayed between jobs, he did a lot of kayaking and swimming, and the gym he belonged to didn’t have a court. He got more practice shooting pool than hoops, which was a shame. He loved the game even though he wasn’t that great at it.
With hardly any backboard left, he had to run after every other shot, and even though the temperature was cool he worked up a sweat pretty quickly. But as time passed he began to hit a little more often than he missed.
Although he couldn’t afford not to pay attention to where he was running, he still had enough concentration left over to think about Shannon.
