Rush

by Deborah Bladon

  “That’s not creepy. It would be creepy if you asked him to get naked first.”

  I drop my gaze to the floor. “If I had a naked picture of Case, I sure as hell wouldn’t be sharing it with anyone.”

  ‘That’s reassuring.”

  The sound of Case’s voice behind me almost drops the phone from my grasp.

  “I need to go,” I mumble to Sandy before I end the call.

  My face heats red as I turn to face him.

  The clothes he was wearing at the bar are gone. He’s dressed in faded jeans and a black T-shirt.

  I look down out of a desperate need to catch my breath. “It’s not how it sounded.”

  He takes a step closer to where I’m standing. “Unless you know another man named Case, it sounded like you’d protect my privacy if you ever happened to get your hands on a picture of me in the raw.”

  I raise my chin so I can look him in the eye, but my gaze sticks on his biceps, and the way the material of his shirt is stretched taut across his chest.

  Dammit, he’s a perfect twelve on a scale of one-to-ten.

  “Just so you know.” His arms cross over that muscular chest of his. “I’d do the same for you, Emma.”

  A shiver runs down my spine when he rakes me from head-to-toe.

  Should I thank him for that, or should I try to explain myself?

  Before I have a chance to do either, his phone starts ringing. Tugging it out of the back pocket of his jeans, he silences it after glancing at the screen. “This is important. I need to go.”

  “See you later,” I say as I watch him head out of the apartment before the door shuts behind him with a loud thud.

  Chapter 12

  Case

  I heave out a sigh as I come down from the high of a much-needed orgasm.

  Resting my forehead against the wall of the shower, I close my eyes to ward off the images that have owned my thoughts since I woke up.

  The moment I joked with Emma about a nude picture of her, the wonder of what that might look like took over my life.

  I left the apartment last night after our brief exchange because I craved fresh air.

  I ended up on the sidewalk outside the building talking to my assistant in California. He ran through a litany of issues that he needed my help with, and then I blew him off.

  I used the convenient excuse of jet lag to get me out of the conversation.

  By the time I went back up to my apartment, Emma was in the guestroom, softly singing. I stood outside the door and listened. Every note was off-key, but I didn’t find it irritating. It was charming in a way that makes no sense to me.

  I tilt my head up to let the warm water slide over me. I need to get out of the shower and dry off since I have a meeting in less than an hour.

  I bump my fist against the panel in front of me but miss the mark.

  The water stops, but a sudden burst of steam envelops me.

  This smart shower is another of Drake’s not-so-brilliant ideas. When he had this prototype installed, he boasted that he could turn it on with an app on his phone.

  I laughed because I never anticipated that I’d have to experience it in person. Slapping my hand against the panel again, the steam clears.

  I’d use the other bathroom and its straightforward shower handle that controls flow and temperature, but that’s reserved for my guest.

  I grab a towel and dry myself.

  A swipe of my hand across the steam-covered mirror reveals an unshaven face.

  I haven’t skipped a morning shave since I moved to California.

  It’s just one of the routines that keep my life in order.

  I make a mental note to pick up a razor on my way to the office.

  As soon as I’ve opened the door and taken a step into my bedroom, the sound of Emma singing hits me again.

  It’s the same song she was belting out last night, but this morning it’s muffled by the sound of water running.

  If I get my ass in gear, I might catch a glimpse of her crossing the hallway from the bathroom to the guestroom.

  One step toward the door of my bedroom is as far as I get.

  I look down at my body and the towel around my waist.

  There’s no masking the fact that I’m semi-hard.

  Dragging a hand through my hair, I scold myself under my breath. “What the fuck are you doing? Get dressed now.”

  I drop the towel and head toward my suitcase while Emma eases into the chorus for a third time.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, Emma emerges from the guestroom, looking like she took two hours to get ready.

  She paired dark jeans with a pink, short-sleeve sweater. The black boots on her feet match the leather bag slung over her shoulder.

  As she nears me, she pushes a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, luring my eyes to her beautiful face.

  I can’t tell if the attraction I feel to her is based on the fact that she’s off-limits or not. Either way, staring at her isn’t the route I need to take here.

  I drop my gaze to the screen of my phone. “Good morning, Emma.”

  “Morning,” she chirps. “How are you?”

  Does anyone ever ask that question expecting an answer other than I’m fine, or I’m doing great ? I haven’t been truthful in my response to it in years. I don’t see a reason to change that up now. “I’m all right. You?”

  “I’m fine.” She bounces to her tiptoes. “Do I need to stay away until five again?”

  There’s no frustration in her tone. She’s genuinely asking if I need her to get lost until late this afternoon. I appreciate her willingness to accommodate me even though she has no idea what I had going on yesterday.

  I shoot her a glance. “No. You’re free to come and go as you please today.”

  “That’s good to know.” She looks down at the watch on her wrist. “I think I’ll explore the city for a few hours. I’ve only been to a handful of places with Drake. There’s a lot more I want to see.”

  She’s an untainted tourist. I may have left Manhattan years ago, but once you live here, the city becomes a part of you. I’m not a native New Yorker by anyone’s standards. I’m just a guy who thought his dreams would come true on this island until his greatest nightmare became reality.

  Since she brought up her brother, I relay the message he wanted me to deliver to her. “Drake got in touch with me last night. He wants you to hang around until he’s back in town.”

  “He does?”

  I nod. “I don’t know what you’re looking at in terms of time off from your job, but…”

  “That’s not an issue,” she interrupts me.

  Curiosity drives the next question out of me. “What do you do, Emma?”

  She hesitates for a split second. “I’m a teacher.”

  It takes a certain degree of patience and compassion to devote your time to the education of others. I’m impressed.

  “It’s summer break so I have some time off before I go back to work.” Her hand scrubs at her forehead. “I will be going back to work.”

  She spits out the word will like it’s done her wrong. I don’t ask what that’s about because she’s eyeing up the door of the apartment like she wants to break free.

  Pushing back from the dining room table, I stand. Smoothing my hand over the front of my gray suit jacket, I toss her a glance. “I’m heading into the office.”

  “I’ll see you later?”

  It comes out as a question, so I answer honestly. “I should be back around six.”

  “I’ll be here.” She steps back when I approach her on my way to the door. “Have a good day, Case.”

  A good day would include me getting on a flight headed back to California. The sooner that happens, the better.

  Chapter 13

  Emma

  Manhattan has endless hidden treasures.

  I’ve spent almost thirty minutes on this block, admiring the art that covers the brick exterior of many of the businesses. None of it
is extravagant and noticeable from the street, but I could see small, intricate paintings interwoven with romantic phrases once I got closer. The sun may have faded the colors, but their beauty is still undeniable.

  They are random love letters written to people who may not even be alive anymore.

  I snap a few pictures and save them to a folder on my phone. These creations are too unique to be forgotten after a stroll past them. They deserve to be appreciated over and over again. I’ll print them and glue them in my scrapbook back at home.

  The empty feeling in my stomach reminds me again that I haven’t eaten anything yet today. I considered grabbing a hotdog from a street vendor, but then I remembered that Case’s cousin said something about Calvetti’s authentic Italian food. I looked up the address and made my way here before the neighborhood art sidetracked me.

  I approach the glass door and yank it open to find the restaurant teeming with people.

  The aromas wafting from the kitchen edge my hunger up a notch.

  I’m famished.

  “Welcome to Calvetti’s.” An older woman with a kind smile approaches me. “I’m Marti, and you’re a beautiful girl.”

  Knowing that I’m sporting a huge grin, I dip my chin to hide it.

  “That smile could light this city on its darkest nights.” She reaches for my hand. “My grandson would be charmed by that smile.”

  “Your grandson?” I question with a lilt in my voice.

  Her gaze drops to my left hand. “No ring. You’re single?”

  “Very,” I answer with a grin.

  “My grandson is as handsome as you are beautiful,” she says with the slightest hint of an Italian accent in her voice. “He’s a fireman. If you like heroes, I can give you his number.”

  “Grandma.” A woman around my age makes her way closer to us. “Luke told you to stop trying to fix him up with every pretty girl who walks through the door.”

  Marti tosses her a look. “They’d make the perfect couple.”

  With a shake of her head and a laugh, the younger woman shifts her attention to me. “I’m Bella Calvetti. I take it you’re trying to eat some lunch not looking for a life partner?”

  I nod.

  “A girl can have both.” Marti shrugs her shoulders. “First, you’ll have the spaghetti, then we’ll talk more about Luke.”

  “She’ll have whatever she orders from the menu, Grandma.” Bella gestures toward an empty table. “Please, go ahead and have a seat.”

  I settle onto one of the wooden chairs next to a small circular table covered with a red and white checkered cloth. This might be the most memorable lunch I’ve ever had, and I haven’t even taken a bite of the food yet.

  I adjust my purse on my lap before dragging the chair closer to the table.

  “I’m sorry about Marti.” Bella hands me a menu. “She means well.”

  I glance up at her. She’s pretty. Her long dark hair is the same shade as mine. Her blue-gray eyes pop as she looks down at me.

  “I’m Emma,” I offer even though she didn’t ask. “And your grandma is very sweet.”

  “She’s the best.” She rests one hand on her hip. “Is this your first time at Calvetti’s?”

  I glance at the closed menu. “It is. What do you recommend?”

  “One of everything.” She rubs her small belly bump through the light blue dress she’s wearing. “I’m eating for two so I stop in as often as I can for lunch. Marti feeds my little bundle of love and me very well. Today we had the ricotta and spinach stuffed shells.”

  The pear shaped diamond ring on her finger catches my eye.

  It’s no wonder she’s practically beaming.

  “Congratulations,” I say, not sure if I’m commenting more on the baby or the ring. Maybe both.

  “Thank you. I sometimes wonder how this is my life.” She smiles softly. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide what you’d like.”

  I don’t need it. “I’ll have the stuffed shells.”

  She scoops the menu back into her hand. “Excellent choice, Emma.”

  Bella’s right. I did make an excellent choice when I came here for lunch. This place is full of friendly faces and what I know will be to-die-for food.

  ***

  “What do you think?” Bella plops herself onto the vacant chair at my table. “It’s ridiculous how good it is, right?”

  Swallowing the last bite of food, I nod. “So good.”

  It’s not a lie. I don’t indulge in pasta often, but this ranks at the top of the best I’ve ever had. I might have to sneak in another meal here before I go home.

  “Your grandma is a fantastic cook.”

  Bella smiles. “She’s the best cook and the best grandma.”

  I look over to where Marti is chatting with two women who just walked into the restaurant.

  “She’s probably trying to set them up with my cousins.” Bella laughs. “I’m sorry if she seemed pushy about Luke. You two would make a great couple though.”

  I glance across the table to find her winking at me.

  “I’m only visiting New York so I’ll have to pass.” I inch my eyebrows up. “I won’t pass on dessert though. Do you have a recommendation for something sweet from the menu?”

  Leaning forward, she rests both of her forearms on the table. “If you keep this between us, I’ll let you in on a little secret about the best dessert in Manhattan.”

  I follow her lead and lower my voice. “Are you going to tell me that it’s not at Calvetti’s?”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” she begins with a sigh. “Marti makes this honey ricotta cheesecake that I’d walk barefoot over rocks for, but…”

  “But?” I interrupt with a soft laugh.

  “If you love cupcakes as much as I do, Sweet Bluebells is the place to be.”

  “I probably love them more than you,” I say. “I have two questions. Where’s Sweet Bluebells, and do they make red velvet cupcakes with real cream cheese frosting?”

  With a quick push back from the table, Bella is on her feet. “Not only are they made with real cream cheese frosting, but the crowning glory is a sprinkle of red, white, and pink candy hearts on top.”

  Sliding a few bills from my wallet, I drop them on the table before I stand too. “Point me in the right direction.”

  “Follow me, Emma.” Bella turns toward the door. “I’m in the mood for one myself, so I’ll show you the way.”

  Chapter 14

  Emma

  The dozens of treats on display inside Sweet Bluebells on the Upper West Side look decadent. I suddenly wonder if Case has ever been here. Does he have a sweet tooth?

  Should I grab a few as a thank you gift since he’s letting me stay at his place?

  I shake away the thought because he doesn’t seem like the cupcake type.

  “Emma, did you hear me?” Bella elbows me in the side. “You’re in a cupcake coma, and you haven’t even taken a bite yet.”

  I tear my gaze away from the glass display case to glance at her. “How could I not be? This place is incredible.”

  “I agree.” She flashes me a grin. “I’ll introduce you to the cake artist behind these mini-masterpieces, and then we’ll order.”

  I catch sight of a woman around my age approaching us. She’s wearing a white T-shirt, faded jeans, and a light blue apron sporting the shop’s name. Her blonde hair is styled into a tight, neat bun on the top of her head.

  “Delaney,” Bella calls to her. “Come meet my new friend.”

  I can’t help but smile at the declaration. Bella and I chatted on the subway ride here. She was born and raised in New York City. Her best friend, Max, is in Boston for two months setting up a new location of his family’s shoe store and she misses him like crazy. She was most excited to tell me that she’s engaged to the love of her life, and according to Bella, a more perfect man doesn’t exist. Although she’s currently working as an executive assistant, she plans on leaving that job in a few months to help her fiancé launch th
e business they’ll grow together.

  When it was my turn to share, I told her about growing up in Seattle and my decision to pursue a teaching degree. I also slipped in the fact that I came to Manhattan to visit my brother who jetted off to get married right before I arrived.

  As she listened to me talk about Drake’s decision to elope in Ireland, Bella smiled and told me that sometimes she wishes she could run away with her fiancé to tie the knot.

  I like her.

  “Delaney Wilts, this is Emma…” Bella’s voice trails. She looks to me for help.

  “Owens,” I add. “I’m Emma Owens.”

  I take Delaney’s outstretched hand for a quick shake. Her blue eyes slide over my face. “It’s great to meet you, Emma.”

  “Emma is visiting New York.” Bella surveys the sugary treats in the display case. “I told her that she had to taste the best cupcakes in the state, so here we are.”

  Delaney beams. “Bella knows what she likes. We’re grateful it’s our cupcakes.”

  “I don’t just come for the cupcakes.” Bella glances at me. “Delaney is a gem. I come in so often that we’ve become friends.”

  Delaney giggles. “It’s kind of impossible not to become Bella’s friend. I’ve never met a kinder heart.”

  Bella wraps her arms around Delaney for a quick hug. “I’m extra hormonal, so don’t make me cry.”

  “Fine.” Delaney playfully swats her arm. “What can I get you two?”

  Bella looks to me. “Emma wants a red velvet, and I’ll take a vanilla with strawberry buttercream frosting.”

  I reach in my bag for my wallet until I feel Bella’s hand on my arm.

  When I glance at her, she’s shaking her head. “I’m covering it today. Next time, you’ll treat me.”

  I can’t help but smile at the promise of more time spent with my new friend. “Deal.”

  ***

  Bella glances at her watch as we step out of Sweet Bluebells into the afternoon sun. “I need to get back to the office. This has been a blast, Emma.”