by Leslie North
The steady pound of his heart matched hers and it took every ounce of willpower Shayma possessed to slowly disengage herself from Murphy without waking him, and make her way back to her cold, lonely bed by herself. She kept repeating in her mind the whole time that this was the right thing, the best thing for both of them.
Maybe, if she kept looping those words through her fatigued brain, one day she’d believe them.
3
Murphy walked back into his sister’s apartment early the next morning carrying two fresh coffees and a bag of rolls from the diner down the street. Shayma had still been asleep when he’d gotten up an hour prior and he didn’t have the heart to wake her.
When she’d first suggested watching that movie last night, his instincts had told him it was a bad idea. He needed to keep his distance from her if he had any hopes of this partnership between them working. But then she’d looked so happy and excited when the film started. Truth was, he’d liked it too. That movie was one of Aileen’s favorites as well and watching it had made him feel like his sister was back with him, even for a little while.
At some point he’d fallen asleep and when he’d awakened during the wee hours it was to find himself alone on the sofa and Shayma safely back in her bed. Thank God. He wasn’t sure if he’d have the moral fortitude to keep his hands off of her if she’d been all cuddled up to his side looking as luscious as she did.
He unlocked the door and shoved it open with his hip only to come face-to-face with the woman foremost in his thoughts at that moment. He stopped short and held up his goodies. “Brought breakfast.”
“Oh, great,” she said, her smile shy. They were both still dressed in their clothes from the day before, but he’d showered before he’d left to go to the diner and if her damp hair was any indication, she’d done so as well while he’d been gone. She reached over and took the coffees from him then headed into the kitchen. “For a minute, when I woke up and you were gone, I thought maybe you’d left without me to visit your inventor.”
“He’s not my inventor,” Murphy said, setting the bag of rolls on the counter then grabbing a couple of plates. Shayma’s English was perfect, but every so often a slight hint of an accent would show through, especially when she was tired or emotional, as he learned last night. For some reason, that only made her more endearing to him. Then again, just about everything she did he found adorable. Which was bad. He was in trouble here and he’d be wise to heed the warning bells blaring in his damned head and stay the hell away from her. Instead, he handed her a plate with a roll on it and grinned like an idiot.
Yep. He was a disaster waiting to happen.
They took a seat at the breakfast bar to eat and he did his best to concentrate on his food, and not the beautiful, warm woman by his side. “I hope you like that coffee. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, but since you love Christmas so much, I got you the kind with peppermint in it. Aileen always liked that kind this time of year.”
“Aw, thank you.” Her smile was dazzling and he nearly forgot to swallow. “It’s yummy.”
“Right,” he said, gruffer than he’d intended. “It’s fine. Eat up. We need to get over to Queens soon, if we want to catch that inventor guy before he heads to work.”
“What’s his name again?” she asked around a mouthful of doughnut.
“Sam Heard. I called Daveed and he tapped a few connections to get me both the guy’s phone number and his place of employment.” Murph sipped his black coffee, glad for a change of subject. He didn’t do fluffy warm fuzzies this early in the morning. Truth, he didn’t really do them at all. But there was something about Shayma that made him want to try. Another danger sign, to be sure. “The more I find out about this guy, the more I think he’s involved in my sister’s disappearance somehow.”
“Really?” Shayma’s pretty, dark eyes widened. “You think he kidnapped Aileen?”
“No, not necessarily. But I’d bet good money he’s in cahoots with this EnKor company. Maybe with some kind of phony investment scheme for one of his inventions. There are just too many red flags. He claims to be an inventor, yet he’s never filed for a single utility patent. Plus, he works as an accountant at some venture capital start-up during the day. He’d certainly have access to all the high-dollar deals on the market and the means to tempt those companies into doing some less than squeaky clean business with him, if he wanted.”
“Wow. Perhaps Aileen caught wind of it and was going to report it all in her paper.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He finished his Danish then cleared away their trash. “If you’re ready, let’s do this thing.”
* * *
“You want me to get a manicure?” Shayma asked, eyebrow raised.
“Yes.” Murphy peeked around the corner of the brick building beside them then quickly looked back at Shayma. “No. I mean I want you to keep an eye on that woman that just walked into the nail salon, talk to her, see if you can find out anything.”
Frankly, nothing sounded better than getting off her feet and being pampered for a while, but Shayma refused to give him the satisfaction. In truth, she was tired. Their promising lead that morning for the mystery inventor had turned out to be a dead end. When they’d gotten to the Queens address Murphy had found in his sister’s computer that morning, it had been nothing but an empty warehouse. Murphy seemed to think that this only supported his idea that the inventor was somehow wrapped up in Aileen’s disappearance, though he’d not shared his details as to why with Shayma.
Now, they were standing in the freezing cold snooping on strange women with no rhyme or reason that she could see. And yes, perhaps Shayma was feeling a bit cranky, but that was beside the point. She narrowed her gaze on Murphy and frowned. “Why? Why should I talk to this woman? You think she wants to date you?”
Not that she cared who Murphy Coen dated. It was none of her business. She tamped down the annoying flare of jealousy inside her and gave him an impassive stare.
“No.” Murphy glanced back at her over his shoulder, his face brimming with annoyance. “She’s the receptionist for EnKor. I recognize her from the description Daveed gave me. If you can get her to talk, we might still have a way into their inner circles. Got it?”
Shayma exhaled sharply and tapped the toe of her shoe against the frozen pavement. “Fine. But afterward, we shop for Christmas decorations.”
Nose scrunched, Murphy faced her head-on. “What?”
“You heard me. Decorations. Your sister’s apartment needs to look jolly and festive for when she returns home.” She placed her hands on her hips and stood her ground. “That’s my offer.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then it looks like you’ll be getting a manicure yourself.”
Murphy scowled. “Fine. But hurry up and get your butt in there. I don’t want to miss our opportunity.”
With a nod, Shayma headed around the corner and into the tiny, crowded nail salon. The acrid scent of acrylic and nail polish remover mixed with the low murmur of conversation in both English and Vietnamese. A petite Asian woman at a work table nearby glanced up as the bell on the door rang. “Happy Holidays. What can we do for you today?”
Shayma did a quick scan of the salon and spotted the receptionist at a table near the back of the room. Luckily the only open seat available was at the table beside hers. “A manicure please.”
“Of course.” The Asian woman rattled something off in rapid-fire Vietnamese, then pointed toward the empty table in the back. “You sit. Someone will be right with you.”
“Thank you.” Shayma made her way back to the seat and shrugged off her coat to hang it on the rack nearby before taking her spot beside the receptionist. The woman glanced over as she sat and gave Shayma a bland smile.
Not usually one for small talk, Shayma said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Busy in here today, huh?”
The receptionist looked at her again before answering. “This is nothing. I was in here last week for a polish
change and there was a line outside.”
“Wow.” Shayma greeted the nail tech who commandeered her table then held out her hands for the tech to remove her current polish. “So, you’re a regular here then. You must live nearby?”
“No. Brooklyn. But I work close to this salon. They do good work and the prices are cheap, so I come here on my lunch hours sometimes for a quick polish change, like today.” She looked Shayma up and down. “What about you? First time here, I take it.”
“Yes.” Shayma switched hands for the tech. “I was out doing some last-minute Christmas shopping and saw the sign outside for the manicure special. I needed to get one, so here I am.”
“Right.” The receptionist faced her tech again. Her short blond hair was spiked in the back and an array of tiny stud earrings sparkled from the ridge of her ear. “With those clothes, you obviously don’t work.”
Shayma frowned down at her tailored pants and sweater. Yes, they were designer, but she didn’t think they screamed expensive. Which meant that the receptionist must have an exceptionally good eye. “I’m actually in the city on vacation. A little pre-Christmas shopping spree before I fly home next week.”
“And where’s home?”
“Al Dar Nasrani.”
“Wow.” The receptionist smiled. “Bet all this snow’s sent you for a loop, huh? Make you miss your tropical island home?”
“A little.” Shayma grinned. “Though the winter here is lovely too.”
“Try living in it for a few months. Won’t be so lovely anymore.” The girl laughed. “I’m Emma, by the way.”
“Shayma.” She smiled over at the woman beside her. “I like your earrings.”
“Thanks.” Emma shrugged. “The firm where I work is fairly conservative, so I try to rebel in all the little ways I can.”
“What’s the name of your firm?” Shayma asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“It’s a green energy company called EnKor. I’m sure you’ve never heard of them.”
“Believe it or not, actually, I have. My father works in the government of Al Dar Nasrani. He’s head of utilities and infrastructure for the country. I’ve heard him use the name before, I think.”
“Interesting.” Emma stuck her hand in a soaking bowl as directed by her tech. “I’m pretty sure I’ve probably placed some calls to your father’s office then. I’m the main receptionist for the company.”
“You probably have then. My apologies.”
Emma snickered. “Oh, your father’s office isn’t bad at all. Some of them are terrible. Thankfully, I don’t have to make them very often.”
“Why’s that?” Shayma picked out a polish from the tray the tech pointed at then refocused on Emma. “I’d think handling the phones would be a big part of a receptionist’s job.”
“Normally, it would be. But EnKor’s kind of weird that way.”
Interest piqued, Shayma leaned a bit closer. “How so?”
“Well, it’s an energy firm, so you’d think there’d be lots of meetings with utility companies and stuff, right?”
“Right.”
“But there’s not. In fact, no one ever comes in for meetings at all except for a couple of older gentlemen.” Emma snorted. “Which is probably a good thing, since we hardly have any furniture. No place for them to sit.”
Shayma frowned. “No furniture? How do they do business?”
“Good question.” Emma sighed. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve been hunting for another position for months now, but the market’s crap. At least EnKor pays well.” She lifted a shoulder and stared at the bright red polish the tech was painting on her nails. “I got to meet a senator once too. He’s the only man who ever stopped by on his own to see my boss, Frank Kent.”
“Huh.” Shayma filed the information away for later when she could tell Murphy about it all, then steered the conversation back toward safer topics like shopping and holiday prep. “Are you all ready for Christmas?”
“Mostly.” Emma shoved her freshly manicured hands into the UV dryer. “Still have a few odds and ends to pick up. How about you? Hitting all those fabulous sales out there?”
I wish. Shayma rolled her aching ankles and forced a smile. “Yes. And now my feet are killing me. I have one more stop to make after this, then I can head back home for the afternoon.”
They chatted about the best places to get decorations and the best vendors for trees, then Emma was done. Her timer dinged and she stood, grabbing her purse from the floor beside her. “Well, I’m back to work. It was nice to meet you, Shayma. Have a wonderful holiday.”
“Bye, Emma. Nice to meet you too.” She watched the other woman walk out as her own nails dried beneath the warm, bluish UV lights.
Once she was finished, Shayma headed back around the corner where Murphy waited, paper cup of coffee in hand and a scowl on his face.
“What did you find out?” he asked, after downing the rest of his coffee in one swig. He tossed the cup in the trash bin as they started back to his sister’s apartment. “Please tell me you found something so my frostbite isn’t in vain.”
“Hey, I was in and out in less than an hour. And you didn’t have to wait outside the whole time. Why didn’t you sit in the café where you got your coffee?”
“Too many people. Too cheerful. Too…” he shuddered and looked away.
It was then that his words from the previous evening returned to her mind and she realized that perhaps Murphy wasn’t handling his loneliness over his sister as well as he wanted people to think. Her heart ached for him and a new sense of protectiveness surrounded her where he was concerned. He was all alone over the holidays, same as her if she didn’t make it back home to Al Dar Nasrani in time. All the more reason to spiff up Aileen’s place and try to make it homier and more festive. Especially if he was staying there, which from looks of things he was. Truth was, she was feeling a bit lonely herself. What with Mel spending all of her free time with Daveed these days. She was actually glad she’d decided to stay at the apartment with Murphy last night. Mel had texted her that morning and told her Daveed and her had spent the night at their suite at the Plaza. She said he’d been impressed.
She snorted. Daveed could buy that place and everyone in it. If he’d been impressed by anything at the fancy hotel it had to have been his pretty little American fiancée.
Not that she begrudged them their love. Not at all, actually.
Seeing the two of them together and so happy gave her hope that she might find that same thing for herself someday. It was good she’d changed her mind about convincing Daveed to adhere to the marriage contract their parents had negotiated. They wouldn’t have suited, not like Daveed and Mel obviously did. Now, if only her Prince Charming would appear and sweep her off her feet on some magical Christmas adventure.
“Watch it!” Murphy reached out and blocked her with his arm, preventing her from stepping out into the street in front of oncoming traffic. He frowned over at her, his expression a mix of concern and irritation. “What’s the matter with you? You could’ve been hurt. Or worse. Pay attention.”
“Sorry. I was thinking.” She shook off her thoughts of a handsome stranger who’d swoop in and carry her off to a romantic hideaway and instead gave the grumpy Grinch next to her a side stare. “And yes, I did find out a couple of things from Emma.”
“Emma?”
“That’s the receptionist’s name. Nice girl. Not fond of her current job though. She’s looking to move on as soon as she can find something better.” The light turned green and they moved across the busy intersection with the rest of the crowd. “She said the place is almost empty inside, hardly any furniture at all, which supports your idea that it’s a sham company.”
“Great.” Murphy took her elbow to guide her around a large group of gawking tourists staring up at the Empire State Building, then let her go and shoved his hands back in his pockets fast, like he’d been burned by touching her. “What else?”
“Well, she said t
hat hardly anyone ever comes into the office, except for the occasional older people from the local utility company.” Shayma sidestepped a red-suited Santa ringing a bell for donations and continued on beside Murphy, their long-legged strides well matched. “She did mention a visit from a Senator one time though, but didn’t say his name.”
“Interesting.”
They turned the corner and headed back down 54th Street toward Aileen’s apartment.
“Oh, wait.” Shayma grabbed Murphy by the arm and pulled him to a stop in front of a shop where it looked like the holidays had exploded. Colorful twinkle lights covered every visible inch of wall space, along with all manner of ornaments and garlands. The air smelled of pine incense and happy carols played loudly over the speaker system. “You promised if I did my part at the salon we could stop on the way home and get decorations.”
“Aileen’s place isn’t home,” Murphy said, his tone dour. “Not without her there.”
Her heart pinched again and she bit her lip, wishing she could take back her insensitive words. “I’m sorry she’s missing, but I think if you let me do some decorating you’ll feel better. Plus, once she does come home, you want the place to look nice and jolly, right?”
He watched her for a few moments, silent, and she feared he’d refuse. But then his big, broad shoulders sagged and his head drooped down. “Fine. But nothing corny or over the top.”
“Deal.” She pulled him inside the packed store and immediately felt her own spirits begin to lift. Back home on the island, she loved spending hours in shops like this, immersing herself in holiday cheer. And while she had no formal training in decorating, she liked to think she had a flair for it. The work she’d done on her family’s home had even been featured in a magazine once, even if it was only published in Al Dar Nasrani. She told Murphy as much as they weaved through the crowds toward a towering display of twinkle lights. “They said I had an eye for color and style.”
