“No, nothing like that. He writes scores for movies and television, that kind of thing.”
“Is he any good at it?”
“How the hell would I know?” Lily asked, doodling absently on the margins of the schedule. “I didn’t ask him to audition before I signed the lease.”
Bridget ignored the sarcasm. “What does he look like?”
“Um…brown hair, green eyes. Tall. Scruffy. Nice smile.”
“Gee, your descriptive powers are painting such a picture.”
“There were dimples too. Did I mention the dimples?”
“Fine, I’ll just get the juice from Charles, I’m sure he noticed the guy’s butt.”
“No doubt,” Lily muttered.
“What about personality? Aside from rude and unorganized.”
“He’s…funny,” she realized. “Sort of sweet. He’s got a big goofball dog that he’s obviously madly in love with.”
“Ew.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not like that, sicko. He looks like he keeps in pretty good shape.”
“Did you notice his arms?”
“I think he’s a runner. He was hardly out of breath at all after chasing down the dog.”
“You noticed his arms! Good biceps?”
“Well…” she hedged.
“Lily Ann Michaels.”
Lily sighed. “They were spectacular.”
“Excellent,” Bridget purred, and Lily snapped herself out of the biceps haze.
“What are you talking about?”
“What? I’m saying it’s great you have a crush.”
“I do not have a crush.”
“Oh please,” Bridget scoffed. “You just sighed over his biceps.”
“I always sigh over biceps,” Lily reminded her. “It’s my thing. Just like hairy chests are your thing.”
“Ugh, I’m so over that,” Bridget muttered. “After Max, I never want to see another hairy chest again.”
“Max had a hairy chest?”
“Like sasquatch.”
“Yick.”
“To each her own. Anyway, the point is you should go for this guy.”
“Bridget, have we not learned our lesson about getting romantically involved with the landlord?”
“Okay, that’s a good point,” Bridget conceded. “But you signed a lease, right?”
“Yes, but I still think it’s a bad idea. If it didn’t work out, then I’d still have to see him every day. I live over his studio, for God’s sake, and how awkward would that be?”
Bridget sighed. “I suppose you’re right. What a bummer.”
“It’s not a bummer,” Lily countered. “I get a beautiful apartment in a wonderful neighborhood, a handsome man to look at and a dog that maybe I’ll get to play with sometimes. You know how much I miss having a dog.”
“That would only be a bonus to you.”
“You’re a cat person, how would you understand?” Lily laughed at Bridget’s snort. “Trust me, it’s better all around if Nate MacIntyre and I stay just friends.”
“Wait, who?”
“Nate MacIntyre. My new landlord.”
“Oh my God!”
Lily winced and yanked the phone away from her ringing ear. “Bridge, my eardrums!”
“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry. But oh my God!”
“Oh my God, what?” Lily asked, putting the phone on speaker and rubbing her ear. It was still ringing.
“Do you know who that is?”
“Who?”
“Nate MacIntyre!”
“He’s my new landlord,” Lily repeated, exasperated. “Have you been getting too close to the volcanoes? It’s not good to breathe too much of that sulfuric air, you know.”
“Ha freakin’ ha,” Bridget said. “I mean, do you know who Nate MacIntyre is?”
Lily dropped her head back to the desk in despair. “Bridget, I’ve had a really rough week.”
“He’s the lead singer of Boys Will Be Boys!”
“What,” Lily mumbled into her desk blotter, “is Boys Will Be Boys?”
“You have to remember Boys Will Be Boys. They were the boy band!”
“Boy band?” Lily repeated, frowning as something tickled the edge of her memory.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you don’t remember. I think I was in the eighth grade when they had their one big hit, and they were everywhere! All over the music channels, they had a huge tour, they were on all the talk shows.”
“Wait,” Lily said, and sat up. “Did they used to all dress alike in those black leather pants and white pirate shirts? And was their big hit song something to do with rockets?”
“‘Launched by Love’,” Bridget giggled. “I think the lyric went something like ‘Baby light my fuse, send my rocket to the stars, we’ll shake those blues, and make love on Mars. We’ll be launched by love.’”
“High art,” Lily grinned.
“Yeah well, I was thirteen. It wasn’t like I was looking for Shakespeare or something. Besides, they were so cute!”
“I remember,” Lily said, and she did. Now that Bridget had jogged her memory, she recalled the pre-teen craze that had surrounded the band. With five adorable fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds shaking their leather-clad butts onstage and video, they’d pretty much been guaranteed a gaggle of screaming girls wherever they went.
“I can’t believe Nate is that Nate MacIntyre.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t recognize him!”
“Well, it’s not like he was wearing leather pants when I met him,” Lily said dryly. “And he didn’t introduce himself as Nate MacIntyre, former boy band singer.”
“Still. And don’t tell me you weren’t a fan. Everyone was a fan back then.”
“I had their poster on my wall,” Lily admitted, “along with half my eighth grade class. But he doesn’t much look like a skinny teenager anymore.”
“Oh, I know. He was featured on one of those famous people revisited programs on one of the music channels. You know, where they visit a musician or actor years after their fame fades to see what they’re doing now?”
“I hate those shows,” Lily said with a grimace.
“I know,” Bridget said. “I tried to get you to watch it with me because I’d heard he was going to be featured, but you refused.”
“Well, it always seems so humiliating. They take a child star or burned-out musician and make them talk about their fall from grace. It’s awful.”
“Well, if you’d watched it, you’d have known that he writes music for television and movies now and lives in the area. And whew, did he grow up fine!”
“Tell me about it,” Lily said on a sigh, the image of strong biceps coming back to her in a Technicolor rush.
“You’ve got a crush on a famous musician.” Bridget’s voice vibrated with laughter. “You’re practically a groupie!”
“Oh bite me,” Lily muttered.
“Can you get me his autograph?”
“I’m hanging up on you now.”
Bridget just laughed harder. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. I have to go anyway. I’m going to be late for my surfing lesson.”
“Surfing lessons?” Lily blinked, incredulous. “You can’t surf, you have no balance. You can’t even jog without falling on your face!”
“Yeah, but you should see the instructor. Hubba, hubba.”
“Of course,” Lily said, and shook her head. “Have fun, sweetie. Love you.”
“Love you too. Get me an autograph!” Bridget let out a peal of laughter and hung up before Lily could retort.
She clicked off with a smile then banged her fist on the desk with a mild curse. “Damn, I forgot to tell her about Max,” she muttered. She picked up the phone to dial Bridget’s hotel in Maui then let the receiver fall back into the cradle. It would only serve to stifle her good time if she knew Max was sniffing around.
“It can wait,” she decided, and spun in her chair to fire up the computer. “But this can’t,” she muttered, and Googled Nate Ma
cIntyre.
Chapter Four
“I can’t believe I didn’t put it together sooner.”
Lily let the box of books in her arms drop with a thump and turned to Charles. “Are you going to let this go?”
“Lil, he’s famous. Famous. How can this not be freaking you out?”
“Because we only have half the truck unloaded and it’s already,” she consulted her watch, “three thirty. We have to have the rental back by six or they’re going to charge me for another day.”
“With what you’re saving in rent, you can afford it,” Charles muttered.
Lily rolled her eyes and snatched the box of bed linens out of his hands. “Will you just go get another load please?”
Charles grumbled something about being used as a pack mule, but he went, clomping down the stairs and making enough noise for a herd of elephants. She shook her head and sighed as she carried the box to the bedroom. She should never have told him about Nate, she mused, although it probably wouldn’t have done her much good to keep it to herself. Sooner or later he’d have figured it out on his own, or Bridget would have told him.
“Still,” she muttered, “it’d be nice if he’d put away the fan boy for a bit.”
She grabbed two bottles of water from her freshly stocked fridge before traipsing down the stairs. Stepping into the bright June sunlight, she slid her sunglasses back onto her nose and headed to the moving truck.
“I brought you some water,” she called out as she stepped up into the back of the rental, and heard an answering grunt from behind the mattress and box spring stacked at the back of the truck. Taking a long pull of her own water, she surveyed what was left.
“We’re actually making pretty good time,” she said. “There’s only a few boxes left, and the bed. Maybe we can get this done today if you’ll stop mooning over my landlord.”
“Who’re you talking to?”
Lily whipped around and stared at Charles, who stood outside with hands on hips, one foot on the step that would take him up into the truck. “What’re you doing back there?”
“I went to my car to plug in my phone,” he explained, and boosted himself inside. He pointed at the extra bottle of water in her left hand. “Is that for me?”
When she only stared at him blankly, he reached out and took it with a shake of his head. “You ought to drink yours,” he said, twisting off the cap. “You look like you might be getting heat stroke.”
Lily blinked. “Wait, if you’re here…” she turned to the back of the truck, her stomach dropping as the possibilities raced through her mind, “then who’s back there?”
Charles lowered the bottle with a sigh and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What?”
Lily pointed at the mattress. “There’s someone back there,” she whispered.
“Who?” he whispered back.
She slapped at his arm. “How the hell should I know?”
“Hey, maybe it’s the celebrity.”
“Will you shut up?” she hissed.
“What?” Charles held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “If it’s him, he can help me haul this monstrosity of a mattress into the apartment. Why you need a king-sized bed is beyond me.”
“I like the room,” she retorted. She grabbed his arm as another groan sounded from behind the mattress. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah.” Charles frowned. “I hope that’s not the celebrity.”
Me too, she thought. “Why?” she asked.
“Because by the sound of that groan, he’s either dying back there or getting way too big a thrill out of your mattress.”
“Oh ick, Charles.”
“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” Charles protested. “He’s the sicko, not me.”
She opened her mouth to retort but paused when she heard another noise. She frowned up at Charles. “Was that another groan?”
“Umm. It actually sounded more like…a whimper?”
“Or a yip,” she realized, realization dawning. She nudged a box of kitchen utensils out of the way and peered around the edge of the mattress.
She grinned when she saw Nate’s dog wedged between the mattress and the wall of the truck, his big furry body curled up in a tight little ball, fast asleep.
She looked back at Charles, who hadn’t moved. “It’s the dog,” she whispered. “He’s asleep.”
“Oh thank God,” Charles sighed, and pressed a big, manicured hand over his heart. “I thought maybe a homeless person had gotten in here. Or a serial killer.”
“You thought there was a serial killer back here and you let me come look by myself?”
Charles sniffed. “You’re a liberated woman, you can handle yourself.”
She snorted. “How very chivalrous of you.”
“Prince Valiant, that’s me. Can we get going with this?”
She sent him a baleful glare. “All of a sudden you’re in a hurry?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s eighty-five degrees outside,” he pointed out, “and at least ten degrees hotter than that in this big tin box. And I have a date tonight, one that I would prefer not to be sweating like a teamster for.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’ll wake up Beau or we’ll step on him when we’re moving the mattress out.” She leaned down and reached around the edge of the mattress, but the dog was just out of reach. “Who’s the date with?”
“Phillip.”
“New guy?” She eased into a crouch, wincing as her knees protested. “Where’d you meet him?”
“Coffee shop on Fifth Street. He was reading The Wall Street Journal in these cute little horn-rims.” Charles sighed. “I do love an intellectual man.”
“Don’t we all,” she muttered, and stretched her arm into the gap where the dog slumbered on, blissfully unaware.
Charles stepped forward. “What are you doing back there?”
“Trying to reach him.” She grunted as her fingers met nothing but air. “How’d he get all the way down there?”
“Let me do it, my arms are longer.”
She shook her head. “You’ll never fit back here.”
“Well, then let’s move the mattress out of the way, and he can just scamper on out.”
“If we just move the mattress, we might spook him,” Lily said.
“Gee, how awful.”
She shifted, her back pressed against the wall of the truck, and reached her arm behind the mattress again. “If I can just reach…” She stretched out, pressing her shoulder into the gap, and felt her fingers tickle fur.
Charles leaned around the edge of the mattress to peer over her head. “Almost got him,” he said. “Just another inch or two.”
Lily bit her lip and reached, pressing her cheek into the edge of the mattress, wincing as the muscles in her shoulder sang with the effort. Her fingers met solid dog under the fur this time, and she grinned. “Beau?” She tapped his flank lightly with her fingers, and got a snore in response.
“Poke him,” Charles said from over her head. “Patting him isn’t going to work, he’s got fur like a grizzly.”
“Beau, wake up,” Lily cajoled, and gave him a gentle poke.
“We should’ve just moved the mattress,” Charles muttered. “You couldn’t spook this dog with a bazooka.”
“Beau, wake up!” Lily said, and jabbed hard mid-snore.
The dog sprang up as though she’d jabbed him with jumper cables, barking his head off and scrambling to get out of the narrow space between mattress and wall. Lily lost her balance and fell back with a shriek. She rapped her head on the side of the truck and watched, helpless, as Beau’s frantic efforts to get out of the truck shoved the mattress right over. On top of Charles.
As soon as the mattress wasn’t in his way anymore, Beau scrambled over it and out the back of the truck. The last image Lily had of him was of his big, bushy tail as he ran for the house, barking all the while. She gave brief thought to running after him, but she was laughing too hard to move.
Partially pinned in the corner by the felled mattress, she didn’t even try to get up. Instead she wrapped her arms around her knees and laughed until tears streamed down her face. She kept trying to catch her breath long enough to ask Charles if he was okay, but then she’d remember the look on his face as the mattress was coming down on him, and lose control all over again.
“Keep laughing, bitch.” The muttered words from under the pillow-top California king only made her laugh harder. “I’m going to kill you when I get out of here.”
“I’m…I’m…”
“A complete and utter whore for laughing at me? Yes, you are!”
“I’m…sorry!” she finally managed, and thought her ribs might crack. She tried to get up, only to get knocked back into the corner when Charles tried to heave the mattress off himself, and that set her off all over again.
“Ah, excuse me.”
Lily looked up to see Nate MacIntyre standing at the truck opening, and sent him a weak wave.
“Yeah, hi.” With the sun behind his head, she couldn’t quite make out his face, but he sounded as though he was smiling. “Need a hand?”
“I’m fine,” she managed then went off again as the mattress twitched violently.
“You’re sure?”
“Hey!” The shout was muffled, but the irritation in it came through loud and clear. “I could use a damn hand!”
Lily simply collapsed with laughter. When she managed to calm down enough to breathe again and wiped her streaming eyes, Nate had lifted the mattress off Charles, helped him to his feet, and both men were watching her with vastly different expressions.
Charles glared. “Are you having fun?”
“I’m really sorry,” Lily said, and fought to keep her lips from twitching. “Really. Are you okay? You didn’t bump your head, did you?”
“No, I didn’t bump my damn head,” he practically snarled. “But I’m considering giving yours a smack.”
Before she could answer, Nate cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt,” he said dryly, his own lips twitching at Charles’ pithy response to that. “But can someone tell me why my dog is hiding under the sofa?”
“Oh, is he scared?” Lily’s face went soft with concern, and she struggled to gain her feet. “Thanks,” she said, and took Nate’s proffered helping hand. Charles simply crossed his arms over his chest and glared harder. “Is Beau okay?”
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