I found myself smiling when I thought of all the kids that had learned in this room. When you thought about it, it was a nice provenance to have in a home. Maybe some of them had grown up to be doctors or pilots; maybe they were artists or athletes. I would bet a whole lot of them had kids and grandkids by now, Sunday barbecues and family baseball games.
I heard a noise and shut down the vacuum.
I waited, and it came again—a knock on the door.
My first thought was the downstairs neighbor. They were a young family with twin toddlers and a baby. My noise could be disturbing nap time.
I crossed to the door and opened it.
I was startled to see Jamie in the hall.
“What?” I asked, somehow not able to be more specific. “Weren’t you downtown at the office?”
“I came to check out your walls.”
“In the middle of the day?”
“You’re playing hooky.”
I found myself insulted at the accusation. “I put in for vacation leave. It’s legit.”
“I’m on an early lunch.”
“It’s ten thirty.”
“Hence the word early. Are you going to let me in?”
“Sure.” I stepped back. “Of course.”
It occurred to me then how I looked. Not pretty, that was for sure. I hadn’t bothered with makeup. I hadn’t even showered yet today. My hair was in a quick knot on the top of my head. My gray sweatshirt was stained and boxy, and I had holes in the knees of my jeans.
I resisted the urge to smooth my hair or check my cheeks for streaks of dust. If Jamie was going to show up out of the blue, he got what he got. Tasha might dress up for a night on the town, but she dressed down for painting her apartment.
And, hey, I was painting my apartment. There should be points for that effort.
“I figured Jamie would duck out of the office if he had a good excuse.”
“Jamie thinks picking my paint color is a good excuse?”
“I’m here to support you, Tasha,” he said in a smooth, silky voice that trickled all the way through me.
I was not going to let things get awkward again.
I put some space between us.
“In that case, Jamie, what color should I use?”
He looked around for a long minute. He took a step, changed his angle, turned around.
“This really is...” he said.
“Utilitarian,” I said.
He nodded. “That and a few other adjectives.”
“Are you going to insult my apartment?”
He fought a smile. “I’m going to say Tasha’s instincts are right. Paint is a good idea. Along with...” He looked around some more.
“I was wondering what to do with the floors,” I said.
He looked down. “Fresh paint on the walls will definitely make the floors look tacky.”
“I’d be offended, but I agree with you. It’s high time I did something with this place.”
I pictured Sophie for a moment. I had a feeling I was quoting her. She was going to be over the moon when she heard I was redecorating.
Trouble was, she’d want a hand in it. And she had very strong opinions.
I wanted this to be Tasha’s apartment, not something tasteful and lovely that was inspired by Sophie.
I’d have to move fast. I wanted to be past the point of no return before Sophie dropped by and caught me.
“So,” I said. “How adventurous do you think Tasha is feeling today?”
“Butter yellow with a russet-brown feature wall and some tangerine trim to make it pop.”
“That sounds delicious,” I said, trying to picture it.
“Maybe not tangerine,” he said. “Maybe pumpkin. It’s a bit darker.”
“Do I want to know how you know all this?”
“I confess, I’ve wandered from the fashion blogs into home decorating a time or two.”
I broke into a grin.
“It’ll look great. I’m stealing it from a design I saw last week. I’ll send it to you.”
I did like the sounds of butter yellow. And given the size of the room and the walls, a contrasting wall seemed to make sense. I didn’t know what pumpkin orange looked like, so who was I to say no?
“You could put stone laminate on the floor and pick up the colors.”
I looked down.
I really liked the idea of a new floor. But I doubted I could afford it.
“I was thinking about something you said,” Jamie said into the silence.
His words piqued my curiosity, and I looked up.
“You asked if Jamie would go with his gut, make a risky decision based on instinct.”
I didn’t want to argue again, so I didn’t say anything.
“He would,” Jamie said. “Oh, not on behalf of a client, that would be irresponsible. But he’d take a risk for himself. I’m sure of it.”
He had me intrigued. “You’re going to take a risk?”
“I think I should.”
I saw the chance for a joke. “And you’ve thought this through.”
He grinned at me. “Yes, I’m going to thoroughly analyze my instinctive, impulsive action.”
“Do tell,” I said. I backed up a little and folded myself into one of the armchairs, motioning for him to do the same.
He sat down across from me. “Short-term trading. High-risk, short-term trading with the potential for large financial gains.”
“You’re going to play the stock market.”
It made sense for an economist, I supposed.
“We’re going to play the stock market,” he said.
I felt an immediate sinking sensation. “I don’t have any money to lose.”
“I’ll stake us,” he said. “We can share the profits.”
That wasn’t fair. “But—”
“No buts, Tasha.”
“You’re the one with the money. You’re the one with the know-how.” I would be dead weight in this.
“We’ll make the decisions together. I’ll explain my thinking to you, but we’ll decide together. If it goes well, you’ll be able to afford a new floor.”
I looked to the ugly floor again. “I don’t feel right about this.”
Jamie came to his feet. “No, Nat doesn’t feel right about this. Tasha thinks it’s a great idea.”
He was right, and I could tell by his expression he knew it.
Tasha, me, I was excited at the prospect of buying and selling stocks with Jamie, of having more secrets with Jamie, of spending more time with handsome, sexy, desirable Jamie.
Nat yelled stop. She recognized the danger.
But Tasha said go. She didn’t need a reason.
Tasha won.
Seven
Rock wall climbing wasn’t nearly as hard as I’d expected.
I’d have to learn the knots, and I’d have to learn how to put on a harness, and I’d have to learn a whole bunch of technical things before I’d be anywhere near ready to go out on my own. But the actual climbing, finding a handhold, finding a foothold, pulling myself toward the ceiling on the big vertical wall so far was a whole lot of fun.
I’d thought Jamie would be way, way better than me. Oh, he was definitely good, really good. But while he had bigger muscles, he also had a higher body mass to lift. Thanks to my short stature and relatively lean frame, I could hold my own.
I couldn’t help but feel proud of that.
It also turned out that I had no fear of heights. I’d never given it much thought before, but quite a few of the people in the class got nervous as they climbed higher. As long as my harness was tight, I just enjoyed the view.
“You’re a natural,” Jamie said as my feet came down on the mat.
I was facing the wall, and he put hi
s hands on my hips, obviously to make sure I stayed steady.
His touch felt good. It felt strong and secure. I didn’t really want him to let me go.
“Your girlfriend’s impressive,” the instructor, Paul, said to Jamie.
Jamie abruptly let go. He seemed to realize how the gesture had looked.
I was glad my face was warm from exertion, or I might have worried about blushing. It wasn’t such a huge mistake, thinking I was Jamie’s girlfriend. After all, we’d signed up together. That would be perfectly natural.
As it was, Paul’s suggestion embarrassed me. I might secretly want to be Jamie’s girlfriend. In fact, I was starting to fantasize about it.
But that wasn’t the point. The point here was to make Jamie attractive to other women. I was his sidekick, his means to an end, the person helping him replace Brooklyn with someone equally glamorous and exciting.
“Thanks,” Jamie said to Paul.
I couldn’t help but note that Jamie made no correction, offered no explanation, and was simply appreciative.
I felt stupidly good about that.
It didn’t change anything. But for a second there, I felt more important to Jamie than just a pal. I liked that.
It would hurt later, I knew. But for the moment I was going to bask in the idea that someone, or maybe more than just Paul, considered Jamie and me a couple.
“Want to go up once more?” Paul asked me.
“Is there time for that?”
The clock was inching toward noon.
“Only for one of you,” Paul said.
“Go ahead,” Jamie said.
“You don’t want to?” I didn’t want to be greedy.
We’d each had three climbs this morning, after sitting through a presentation on theory and practicing some basic knots. I could see there was a whole lot to learn about the sport.
“Go ahead,” Jamie said. “I’ll watch Paul on belay.”
I waited while Paul double-checked my ropes and equipment. Then I set off again, with Paul on the ground holding the rope to anchor me in case I slipped. To change things up, I started from a different point.
There were three climbers on the wall with me, each working with a different instructor.
Paul had told me to watch my feet. My feet were way more important than my hands. It made sense to me. And since I didn’t have a ton of strength in my arms and shoulders—not being a regular at the gym or anything—I was more than happy to depend on my leg muscles. All that bike riding and running around on the tennis court was serving me well.
“Keep your arms straight,” Paul called from below.
I reminded myself of that one, looking for a handhold farther away.
I saw one and took it, then I concentrated on my feet, finding the next step.
By the time I made it back down, my legs and arms were quivering. I knew I’d be sore tomorrow, but in a good way. This morning had been a whole lot of fun, and very satisfying.
Now, when I met new people at parties or anywhere really, and they asked my hobbies, I could sound daring and exciting. Who wouldn’t be impressed with the answer rock climbing if they asked me what I did for fun? It was better than tennis, and sounded a whole lot more impressive than reading.
“Hungry?” Jamie asked as we drove from the parking lot in his SUV.
“I am. That really works up an appetite.”
“Should we go watch some pretty people while we eat?”
“Where?”
“Northland Country Club. Have you ever been there?”
I had, but only once.
It was the high-end clubhouse at a private golf course. The restaurant was open to the public, but the prices were sky-high.
“Dressed like this?” I asked, knowing we’d never fit in.
“You look awesome.”
“I look casual and sweaty.”
He waved a dismissive hand as we pulled into traffic. “It’s only lunchtime. Think of it as being incognito.”
“No one will ever suspect we’re spies?”
“Exactly. And it’s on the way home.”
“Sure,” I said. “That sounds great.”
There was no doubt that successful, stylish people frequented the Northland Country Club. It attracted business tycoons, politicians and millionaires from around the state and beyond.
“I hope our stock portfolio is rising,” I said as we made our way through midday traffic. “I hear a cup of coffee costs sixteen dollars in that place.”
Jamie tossed me his phone. “Check it out. The password is 8596.”
I took a second to absorb the idea of Jamie giving me his password.
“You’ll probably have to swipe over one screen. Open the Tracker app.”
I entered the password, feeling like his girlfriend and telling myself to stop it already.
I swiped and tapped the app. Six lines came up with codes and numbers.
“What does it say?” he asked.
“CPW 27.32, LNN 2.06, QPP 32.17.”
“Read that one again,” he said.
“QPP?”
“Yes.”
“QPP 32.17”
“Click on it.”
I did.
“What do you see?”
“There’s a graph.”
“What does the trajectory look like?”
I didn’t exactly understand the question.
“Long, slow start and sudden spike?” he asked.
“That’s right.”
“Hit the sell button.”
I was kind of intimidated by the request. “Are you serious?”
“Completely. Go ahead.”
“I’m selling stock?” I asked.
He grinned. “You are selling stock, Tasha.”
“Okay.” If he was sure, then I was game. I touched the sell button. “It’s asking me to confirm.”
“Confirm,” he said.
I did. “Wow. That was exciting.”
Jamie laughed.
“What did I just do?”
“You just paid for lunch.”
“Really?” It felt pretty amazing.
“Lunch and a whole lot more,” he said.
“How much did we make?”
“Ten percent.”
“How much did we invest?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
I was speechless for a second. “That’s... Jamie, we just made a thousand dollars?”
“I’m thinking champagne with lunch.”
I looked back down at the phone. “But how...? It can’t be that easy.”
“It’s not easy.”
I felt like I’d insulted him, belittled his expertise and experience. “I know... I mean...”
The phone pinged in my hand and a text message came up. I automatically read it. “I’m sorry,” I quickly said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Who’s it from?” he asked.
“Aaron.”
“What did he say?”
“Are you sure you want me to—”
“You’ve already read it.”
I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or not. “I didn’t read it on purpose.”
“I know that. What does it say?”
“It says Bernard postponed the IPO.”
“Thank goodness,” Jamie said.
“It’s good?” I was glad it wasn’t something to upset Jamie.
I wanted to go have lunch. I wanted to analyze beautiful people. I didn’t want Jamie rushing off in a bad mood because of a problem at work.
“It means I talked them off the ledge. Aaron had their heads filled with ideas of quick riches and smooth sailing. It wasn’t going to work that way.”
“Maybe they should have thrown it all into QPP.
”
“There’s nothing wrong with high risk when you’re prepared to lose—whether it’s a stock or an equity investment. I was prepared to lose on QPP. I doubt Bernard wants to risk losing control of his company.”
“You were prepared to lose ten thousand dollars?” I couldn’t wrap my head around that.
“We wouldn’t have lost it all. Probably not. Likely not. But we could have lost some of it.”
“You want me to read the rest of the numbers?” I asked, worried that we could be losing money on something else while we sat here talking.
“I’ll check at lunch,” he said. “For now, let’s just bask in the win.”
“Basking,” I said as he swung into the country-club parking lot.
* * *
Once we’d cut in the edges, the painting went fast. Jamie was great with the roller, putting on an even coat. And with the roller extension, he could stand on the floor and paint all the way up to the high ceiling.
“What are we going to do up there?” he asked, looking at the ceiling.
I held on to the ladder and tipped my head. From up here, I could see more detail than I wanted to know about. “The skylights are really getting grungy.”
“They definitely need to be replaced. Are they leaking?”
“No, thank goodness. Construction is way beyond my budget. I don’t think the landlord would let me do it anyway.”
“He would if it increased the value of his building.”
“I suppose,” I said.
“But he’d probably up your rent.”
I went back to edging the russet-brown wall. I was on the last section cutting in the ceiling line.
“I’d have to get an agreement in advance,” I said, thinking out loud.
“You should ask for a decrease in rent proportional with the amount you’re putting into repairs.”
“Would anyone go for that?”
It seemed like a good idea. But since I’d already started the work, I didn’t see where I’d have leverage.
I could ask. I would ask. Maybe I wouldn’t mention that I’d already done the painting.
The Dating Dare (Gambling Men Book 2) Page 10