by Box Set
Boy, his life had gotten weird in the last twenty-four hours.
Not to mention, he’d woken up with the taste of her still on his mind. That didn’t happen with women. Ever.
“Mr.—Jericho?” an elderly staff assistant asked as he sped past her. Normally, he’d have stopped and chatted, refilled her coffee cup and made her blush. He was a firm believer in keeping secretaries happy. Their tasks might look menial to those who didn’t pay attention, but in truth he knew the big secret. That secretaries ran the world. With one keystroke or tough of a speed dial, they could make or break you.
“Have a great day, Ann,” he called back over his shoulder. He didn’t have time to make her happy today.
Rounding the corner through two clear glass doors, however, Jake put on his best smile for another world-runner.
Nina.
Nina was five-foot-ten inches of carved-out perfection, with dark hair and eyes and witty little mouth that would make a sailor step back. She was also his father’s personal secretary, rumored to be his personal everything, so Jake steered clear. Still—Nina needed schmoozing to get to his father.
“Hey gorgeous,” he said, as she responded by re-crossing her long legs. Her eyes traveled south and then north again.
“Hey homeless,” Nina said. “Were you robbed?”
“I’m off this week,” he said, landing in a chair.
“So?” she said. “That just means you come in without a tie. Or here’s a crazy thought—stay home?”
“I’m feeling rebellious.”
“Gee, that’s new,” she said wryly. “So’s the scruff. Please don’t tell me you came to be rebellious with him. My day already sucks and it’s still early.”
“I just need about fifteen minutes,” Jake said. “Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“You only have ten, so make it count.” She flaired her fingers toward the hallway behind her. “Go ahead, but if you ruin my lunch date at the Ritz I’m not responsible for the evil that befalls you.”
“Point taken,” he said, already around her desk and down the hall. The glass and modern look gave way to wood. Everywhere. The man had a wood for wood. Something Jake understood, but not for the same reasons. Jake loved the feel, the smell, the earthy sensation of wood walls and accents, whereas his dad was all about the grandiose.
“Like this obnoxious ass door,” he said, facing the huge solid English Oak monstrosity his father had imported from some castle. Wherever it came from, Jake was sure it was missing a moat.
“Come in, Jake,” a voice from the other side called. You’d think something that significant would be soundproof. “Don’t just stand out there breathing.”
Jake went in, repulsed as usual by the giant ornate desk that Presley Jericho sat behind as if he were ruling the world. That impression was made even more prominent by the five-foot world globe at his left.
“Nina gave you a heads up,” Jake commented.
“I don’t pay her to make coffee, son,” his dad said, sitting back from his laptop.
Thick white hair combined with a suspiciously low wrinkle count, gave him somewhat of a Godly appearance. Not that Jake would dare mention that or the next thing to decorate the office would be a cross. Wooden, of course.
“Did your apartment building burn down?” he asked, absorbing Jake’s jeans and button-down shirt with shrewd eyes.
“No, and I wasn’t robbed either,” Jake said. “I’m taking a few days off.”
“Of course you are,” his dad said, directing his attention back to his computer.
“Excuse me? When’s the last time I took off?” Jake sat in a leather chair that may as well have been wooden, too. Keep your visitors uncomfortable so you always have the edge.
One of his dad’s rules for business.
That one was quickly followed in his head by one of John Stone’s. Everyone breathes the same, boy. Sticking your nose up don’t give you better air.
“You talking officially, or when you don’t bother to show up?” his father said.
Here we go.
“So,” Jake plowed ahead. “We Are New York?”
Eyes flitted his way over the computer. “What of it?”
“Brooklyn waterfront for a reason?”
His dad frowned. “Asking me this for a reason?”
Jake didn’t blink. He knew his father’s diversion tactics better than anyone. He’d been schooled in them.
He simply shrugged. “Curious.”
“Hmm,” his dad said, meeting Jake’s gaze, folding his hands and steepling his fingers.
“I have some friends there,” Jake added, feeding the machine a little more, forcing his body to stay relaxed.
Eyebrows went up a fraction, not in surprise, but in practiced conversation mode. And then there it was. The steepled fingers started rubbing together. His tell.
“But you knew that already,” Jake said with a smile.
“Why wouldn’t you? You spent time there when you were young. After—”
“After that place?” Jake said with a laugh. “I don’t know why you can’t call it the ranch. You did send me there.”
“Your grandfather sent you there,” he said, his tone sharpening. “I spent that year doing damage control.”
“Ah, priorities,” Jake said. “Well, anyway, guess who I saw wandering around down there last night?”
His dad gave a placating smile. “I can’t imagine,”
“Oh, I think you can,” Jake said. “Try harder.”
Deep, wearing sigh with eyes closed. Always the put-out one, with such a trying son.
“I don’t have time for games, today, son,” he said. “Can we do this later? Maybe next—”
“Did you know about all the history down there?” Jake asked, flipping the switch. “Three of the buildings are even marked as the first three, connected with tunnels. Built by a crook who had pirate connections.”
“Pirates?” his dad said, chuckling. “Really?”
“Really. Used again during Prohibition,” Jake said. “Two of them had secret speak-easies.”
“Well, history brings some fascinating stories,” his dad said, those fingers about to start a tiny fire with all that friction.
“Yes it does.” Jake leaned forward. “That’s just three of the buildings. Why are you destroying it?”
“Son, everything has an expiration. It’s time for that tired area to get a new life.”
“By kicking everyone out?”
The fingers came unwound. “Hold on. They are being fairly compensated—”
“What about the ones leasing?” Jake sad. “Are they being compensated? What about the people who are being evicted and have to find new homes. Are they getting compensation?
“Jake,” his dad said, leaning forward again. His listen-to-the-teacher pose. “There are casualties in every war.”
“This isn’t war, Dad.”
His dad laughed as if dealing with a naïve child. “Business is war, son. You need to learn that.”
“And you need to learn, oh Sensei, that when you call a project We Are New York like you’re reaching out and doing something for people, you should actually do something.”
Jake was on his feet without even knowing he’d stood.
“That’s—”
“Do you even see the potential in front of you?” Jake continued before his dad could cut him off. “People love old shit. They love walking where people smuggled in gold hundreds of years ago. Eating and dancing where people used to sneak off to drink. You want to say you’re New York? Be a part of it. You have a board president that’s knee deep in the historical society.”
His dad gave him a surprised look. “William Benson.”
“Yes,” Jake said. “Use Benson’s connections. Revitalize. Brick the streets. Put up old lamps. Create a historical district that will bring people in in droves. Help the shop owners revamp their places to fit the theme. Beef up the boardwalk. Give them an option to buy in. You could do so mu
ch without ever leveling anything, and make money hand over fist.”
Jake stopped to inhale, realizing he’d done that rant all on one breath. It had been a while since he’d stood off with his father.
“Are you done?” his dad asked.
Jake blew out a breath, knowing that showed his hand. Showed a weak spot that could be pounced on. But he was a little out of practice.
“Are you listening?”
“I heard every word, son.” He rose and glanced at his watch. A totally unnecessary show of being done with the conversation, since there were three clocks in the room, one the size of one wall. “But the deal is done. Contracts are being signed. Demolitions are being scheduled. There’s an entire model of the new area sitting on the fortieth floor in Planning.”
Jake blinked. “What?”
His dad raised his eyebrows the way he always did when Jake fell short.
“It’s nice to see you passionate about something, Jake, but where was all this a year ago when the proposal went out? Or even six months ago? William has already researched all this, it’s done. And you come in here dressed like a street person waving signs of protest at the big bad company, like it’s the first you’ve heard of it. Like you aren’t imminently attached to it.”
He was right, and Jake hated that. He was playing a ridiculous game of hide and seek, pretending he wasn’t part of the problem, when in reality he’d never paid attention in the first place.
“You’re in charge,” Jake said. “You could pull the plug anytime you wanted to. I’ve seen you do it.”
His father crossed his arms over his chest. “Not this time,” he said. “And by the way, you signed off on it, too,” he added.
Jake met his eyes. There was that. “Signatures can be redacted.”
That time, the eyebrow raise was in surprise.
“You want to get legal involved?”
“Would slow things down, wouldn’t it?” Jake said quietly.
His father’s eyes narrowed, first in awe, and then in suspicion. “Who’s the woman?”
“What?”
“You heard me. You don’t get this fired up over a bunch of buildings,” he dad said. “Who is she?”
Jake saw twenty shades of angry. If anything justified every ounce of bad blood between him and his father, that whole sentence was it.
“First of all,” Jake said through his teeth. “What the hell do you think I went to college for? Second—” Jake swallowed the bitterness that filled his mouth over how he’d referred to Harper. As some woman. The very next zinger through his brain was that he wasn’t arguing that there was one. When did that happen? When Harper Haley melted in his arms. Again. “Second, if you’re referring to the woman your little lap puppy stalked last night, no. She’s an old friend. And you can tell Trent that scaring the hell out of her was an asshole move. He’s damn lucky her dad wasn’t around or he’d have holes where they weren’t before.”
Eyes faltered in his dad’s face, telling Jake all he needed to know. Marco’s call to Miriam had been relayed upward, Trent had been checking things out. But Jake knew that his dad would never intentionally hurt or frighten a woman. He was old school when it came to things like that. There would be words for Trent.
“I need to go, son,” he said. “If you’re coming in to work today, please go change into something appropriate. Find a razor. If not, this conversation is—”
“Not over,” Jake finished.
“Son, let it go,” he said, sounding weary. He pulled his suit coat from his chair and put it on as he came around his desk. He patted Jake’s shoulder as he passed him but Jake pivoted with him.
“I believe there are rules about messing with certified historical landmarks,” Jake said to his back, playing his last card.
His dad smiled as he turned slowly, his fingers pausing in their buttoning of the coat. It was the tiniest of pauses, but Jake noticed. “I told you, William Benson already vetted this. There are no landmarks out there.”
Jake inhaled slowly. “Not yet.”
The smile froze on his dad’s face, and he took two steps back toward Jake.
“Don’t try to play with the grownups, Jake,” he said quietly. “You haven’t earned it.” With that, he turned and walked toward the door. “I have a meeting. I assume you remember your way out.”
Jake didn’t move. Everything inside him twitched, but he held it in. The grownups. Fire boiled his blood so hot and fast, he felt like his skin would ignite. Deep inside, he knew that his father’s attitude toward him was partially his own doing, but it always felt like it wouldn’t matter if he’d been the perfect son. The two of them had a circle of mutual misunderstanding that never seemed to have an end.
The big door opened a bit, and Nina’s head appeared.
“Just checking for bodies,” she said. “He left and you didn’t, so—”
“No worries,” he said, mentally shaking it off. “There may be a few teeth marks, but I’m still standing.” Walking past her, he asked, “Do I have anything on my desk?”
“Besides dust?”
Jake only hesitated a second, before continuing his steps onward, not saying a word.
“Jake?” she called. “Jake, come on, I was joking!”
He wasn’t in the mood.
Chapter 6
Harper might as well have been eighteen again, and nothing was more exhilarating or more irritating. She’d barely slept, finally passing out and waking with the feel of his mouth still on her lips. The sensation of his body crushed against hers and his hands in her hair.
Dear God, he might have just been playing along, but that was a kiss for the record books. And one that had thrown all her determination and fight right into the bay and melted her on the spot.
And she hadn’t fully solidified, since.
So far that morning, she’d forgotten to put coffee in the first machine, resulting in a pot of hot water. She made two orders wrong, and gave one man his whole ten dollar bill back instead of the change.
God, she was doing exactly what she’d done back then. Walking around blind deaf and dumb in a fog of Jake. She was thirty years old, damn it. Not some dewy-eyed girl anymore. She’d had relationships come and go. She’d gotten serious once, even, before it fizzled. And none of them had her shaking in her shoes from one kiss. He’d had that effect on her twelve years ago, and now Jake was back, grown and scruffy and manly, kissing her into stupidness all over again. His voice saying her name. Harper.
“Harper!”
She jumped, spilling the milk she was pouring into the steamer. “Damn it, I made a mess.”
“With the wrong milk.” Christian pointed, taking the milk jug from Harper’s hands. “He ordered skim, not whole.”
Harper blew out a deep breath. “Jesus, I’m a train wreck,” she muttered.
“No kidding,” Christian said. “What gives?”
“My brain,” Harper said. “My sanity.”
“Your ex-boyfriend?” she added, stepping out of reach as she put the milk back in the fridge and reached for the skim. “Sorry, but it’s kind of obvious.”
“It would benefit you not to go there,” Harper said with a shake of her head. And another glance at the clock. It was almost ten.
“Speaking of, is he coming back today?” Christian asked. “We could use the extra hands.”
Don’t think about his hands.
“He said he was,” Harper said offhandedly. “But, hey, it’s not like he’s committed to it. He didn’t fill out any paperwork or—” The bell dinged and Harper spun around, but it was a customer leaving.
“Yeah,” Christian said, cocking an eyebrow. “Train wreck.”
Harper shot her a death glare. “Shut up and go make something fattening.”
***
By noon, she was livid. Not only had she made a fool of herself mooning after an old love, but the asshole stood her up. Okay, not really, since it was work, not a date, but he didn’t really work there and he was only comi
ng because of her. Unless he wasn’t coming. Because of her. Again.
She couldn’t do this again. Seriously.
Except yes she could, damn it. It was one day. One kiss. One man would not break her. Not even Jake.
I got spooked.
“Spooked, my ass,” she muttered out loud, bringing a questioning look from a customer who’d come up to the counter for extra cream. “Sorry,” she smiled, as a whistling noise accompanied the natural poof of the power going out.
“What the—”
The fridge made a groaning noise, the machines popped, and customers stopped talking.
“Shit,” Harper muttered. “Nobody open the fridge or the freezer. I’m gonna run across the street to see if they’re out, too. See if it’s a breaker or a full neighborhood outage.”
She walked out into the sunshine and jogged across the street toward Sticks. Nothing was open on her side of the street anymore. She read the sign on the blackened window when she got there, and was sickened all over again. Fifty years. She looked around at how the neighborhood was systematically shutting down. It wasn’t right.
“Move on, Harper,” she whispered, opening the door.
She blinked a few times to adjust to the low light, but the difference was that there actually was light. Seeing Frankie’s form behind the bar, hunched around a laptop with two other guys, Harper headed that way.
“Hey Frankie, have you had any power glitches over here?” she asked, as all three men looked up. “Ours—”
The words died on her tongue when her eyes landed on each one, Frankie, a dark haired guy she didn’t know, and Jake.
Jake.
Over here hanging out with the guys. Relief that he hadn’t skipped the planet again washed over her quickly, followed by a series of words she probably shouldn’t say aloud.
“Hey Harper,” Jake said, that—that friggin look on his face again.
Oh, hell no, he didn’t get to use that look today.
The strange man in the middle gave him a melodramatic sideways look. “This is Harper?” he asked.
“Our power’s good,” Frankie said. “Must just be the breaker over there again.”