But I wasn't. I had to make him see that. I held up my hands. "Look, I was just heading home, honest. I live around here, okay?"
Again, he laughed. "No one like you lives around here."
No one like me? What did that mean?
The guy's gaze drifted down to my breasts. He nodded like he saw something he liked. "Yeah, you're the good stuff, aren't you?"
I didn't bother looking down. It didn't take a genius to understand what had captured his attention. My white blouse, skimpy as it was, was now soaked and clinging to me like a second skin.
Stupid work uniform.
Maybe I should have signed that petition. Who knows? Maybe I still would. But first, I needed a ride out of here, and fast. Without thinking, I blurted out, "Hey, can I borrow your phone?"
The guy laughed like I'd said something funny. "Why? Who you gonna call?"
"My boyfriend."
"Boyfriend, huh?"
Unsure what to do now, I started blathering like an idiot. "He lives around here. I mean, I live with him. And with it raining and all, I figure I should call and get a ride, you know?"
From the SUV, the woman called out, "You want a ride? He'll give you a ride, honey."
Oh, for God's sake. Tired of this whole twisted scene, I snapped, "I'll stick with Jake. Thanks."
At this, her expression froze. Her eyes shifted toward the guy, who'd just muttered a low curse. When I turned to look, he said, "Jake who?" He wasn't laughing anymore. "Bishop?"
Why lie? I nodded.
The guy shook his head. "Fuck."
I didn't bother asking if he knew Jake. From the look on his face, it was pretty obvious that he did. But was that a good thing? Or a bad thing?
I was still wondering when the guy turned and splashed his way back to the SUV.
He yanked open the driver's side door and claimed the driver's seat, leaving the woman to scramble into the passenger's side.
A moment later, the vehicle roared out of sight, leaving me standing alone in the pouring rain – not that I was complaining.
Above me, I heard the crack of thunder, and the skies opened up, delivering a torrential downpour that made it hard to breathe. Or who knows? Maybe my ragged breathing had nothing to do with the weather. Whatever had just happened, I was insanely glad it was over.
Or, at least, I sure hoped it was over.
Unable to stop myself, I started running as fast as I could. I didn't pause until I reached Jake's street, still packed with rush-hour traffic, in spite of the downpour.
Looking down the street, I stifled a curse. I was still a long way from Jake's place, ten or twelve blocks at least.
Unsure what to do, I started running again, ignoring the weather and the strange looks I got from random people, scurrying forward under their nice, safe umbrellas.
The air was cooler now, but my lungs were burning, making me gasp and sputter as I splashed my way forward, desperate now to reach Jake's condo.
Ignoring everything – the rain, the looks, the traffic – I kept on going, until I heard a familiar male voice, calling out my name.
Confused, I stopped and turned to look. Unfortunately, the voice didn't belong to Jake. It belonged to my least favorite sports agent, Vince Hammond.
Chapter 16
I squinted through the rain and sure enough, spotted Vince, calling out from the open driver's side window of a black sedan, idling at the curb across the street.
When our gazes met, he called out again. "You need a ride?"
I glanced around and hesitated for only a split-second before sloshing forward, dodging traffic as I crossed the street and circled around to his car's passenger's side, only to discover that it wasn't exactly empty.
In the passenger's seat, sat Bianca, Jake's former event planner and one of my least-favorite people.
Oh great. A twofer.
But even as I thought it, I reminded myself that I was incredibly lucky they were stopping at all. My gratitude was reduced only a fraction when Bianca opened her car-window barely a crack and said, "You're gonna have to sit in the back, you know."
Well, obviously. It's not like I was planning to sit on her lap or anything.
She pursed her lips. "And grab a towel or something, will you? These are leather seats."
I looked around. Where on Earth was I supposed to find a towel? And besides, weren't leather seats more water-resistant than cloth? I hesitated, wondering what I should do now.
But from the driver's seat, Vince called out, "She's not serious. Now, c'mon, get in, before you drown out there."
That was all the prompting I needed. I yanked open the rear passenger's side door and dove inside, feeling an embarrassing surge of relief when I slammed the door shut behind me.
It wasn't even the rain, as uncomfortable as it was. It was that scary-ass guy, and the frizzy-haired woman with him, along with the fact that my clothes were plastered to me like a cold, second skin.
Stifling a shiver, I sat up and looked out toward the street ahead. From here, we were only five or six blocks away from Jake's place – not a long distance, but longer than I wanted to walk now, all things considered.
I reached up and shoved back that same annoying clump of wet hair. As thankful as I was to be huddled here in the backseat, I had to admit that I would be even more thankful if I could somehow make myself invisible.
I'd gotten only a quick glimpse of Bianca before diving into the car, but I'd caught enough to catalogue the basics. As usual, she looked like a million bucks. Her sleek, dark hair was perfectly styled. Her dress was a tailored, sleeveless number, in peach no less – a color that I could never pull off, even on my best day.
And today, was most certainly not my best day. My hair was dripping, my clothes were soaked, and I felt like I had goldfish swimming in my shoes. Still, I tried to sound normal as I said, "Thanks for the ride."
Bianca snorted. "You can thank him. It wasn't my idea to stop."
From the driver's seat, Vince spoke in a tone was half playful, half serious. "Now Bianca, be nice."
Nice? Bianca? It was my turn to snort.
Bianca whirled around to face me. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I gave her my clueless face. "I didn't say anything."
She glowered at me. "Well, maybe not with words, but I know perfectly well what you meant."
Yeah? Well, I knew a few things too. Bianca was in love with my boyfriend. She blamed me for the fact that he wasn't her client anymore. And, if I wasn't careful, she'd trick me to making a fool of myself – not that I needed any help in that department.
Bianca and I had a history, and it wasn't a good one. Determined that this time, she wouldn't get the best of me, I summoned up a cheery smile and said, "Sorry. Should we hug it out?"
She drew back like I'd just offered her sex with a corpse. "What?"
"You know," I said. "Hug and make up." I spread my arms wide. "Aw c'mon, I'm willing if you are."
In truth, I wasn't all that willing, and given the fact that she was in the front seat, and I was in the back, it probably wasn't even possible. But none of that mattered, because I knew for a fact that Bianca wouldn’t be caught dead hugging anyone as soggy as me, even if we were friends, which we definitely weren't.
Her lips curled in obvious disgust. "I'm not going to hug you."
"Oh well," I said, dropping my arms. "At least I tried."
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was vaguely aware that the attitude I was giving Bianca was my last defense against totally losing it.
Inside, my heart was still racing, and my thoughts were a disjointed, jumbled mess. My legs were trembling, and I had a sneaky suspicion that it wasn't because of the run, or because I was cold and wet. It was because of everything else that had happened within the last hour.
So in a twisted way, I was almost glad that Bianca was here, sneering at me like she always did. If she wasn't, I might have to think about what could've happened to me a few minutes earlier if things had
gone down differently.
I might also have to think about the fact that soon, I'd be skulking through the lobby of Jake's building, looking like a drowned rat, and giving Pete the opportunity to say, "I told you so." Not that he would. He was far too professional for that.
But he'd definitely be thinking it.
Vince's voice broke into my thoughts. "I think there's a hoodie in that duffle bag. You want it? It's yours."
I glanced around and spotted a red gym bag sitting on the floor mat, just behind Vince's seat. Gratefully, I started reaching for it, only to be interrupted by Bianca, whining, "But she's gonna get it all wet."
I hesitated. She did have a point. And I'd learned from experience that accepting favors from Vince was a dangerous proposition. He didn't do anything just to be nice. I'd learned that myself, the hard way.
Still, through the shivers, a little voice in my head whispered, "Yeah. But so what?"
I'd already crossed that bridge by getting into his car. There was no going back now – and probably, I wouldn’t, even if I could. The street suddenly seemed far too dangerous, and not only because of the storm.
So I ignored Bianca and leaned down to unzip the bag. Sure enough, I found a navy hoodie nestled atop some workout clothes. No towel. Unfortunately.
Buy hey, I was in no position to complain.
From the driver's seat, Vince said, "Don't worry. I don't need it back."
Beside him, Bianca made a sniffing sound. "Eauw." She sniffed again. "Something smells like a wet dog." She peered around her seat and wrinkled her nose at me. "Is that you?"
Oh, for God's sake. I didn't smell like a wet dog, even if I did feel like one.
Still, I made myself smile. "Woof, woof."
Her gaze narrowed. "You are so immature. You do realize that?"
Yeah, and she was a turd. But since I wasn't thrilled with the idea of walking, that sentiment was better left unsaid, especially because the car hadn't yet moved. If they were going to kick me out, now would be the perfect time.
Vince leaned around his seat and said, "You're heading to Jake's, right?"
"Uh, yeah," I said. "Actually, I was walking back there when I got caught in the rain."
Vince nodded. "Good timing. We're headed there, too."
They were? For what? The last I'd heard, Jake and Bianca weren't quite on speaking terms, and as far as Vince, he and Jake were practically arch-enemies.
From the passenger's seat, Bianca added, "So you can thank your lucky stars that we were in the neighborhood."
I resisted the urge to snort again. I'd seen my horoscope. My stars weren't lucky. Not today, anyway.
And, as I soon learned, my luck wasn't about to improve any time soon.
Chapter 17
Vince pulled his car up to Jake's building and stopped in the turnaround, under the building's wide, protective awning. Graciously, he offered me and Bianca the chance to exit the car without getting drenched.
Bianca, lovely person that she was, actually protested, although not in any way that would do her credit. "You can let me off," she told Vince, "but why Luna?"
She turned around to sneer at me, still shivering in the back seat. "Look at her. She's soaked already. What difference does it make now?"
She gave a mean little giggle. "What you should do," she told him, "is let her park the car, so you don't ruin your suit." She flashed me an overly sweet smile. "You don't mind, do you? Because let's all be reasonable here. If it weren't for us, you'd still be out there walking."
Silently, I looked to Vince. If it were just Bianca, I'd tell her to shove it. But Vince was the one who'd actually given me a ride, in spite of Bianca's protests, apparently.
I didn't like the guy, but I didn't want to be ungrateful either. And rude or not, Bianca did have a point. It's not like I could get much wetter.
But Vince was shaking his head. "I wouldn't dream of it. Now, go on. I'll park the car and see you both inside."
Ignoring more snide commentary from Bianca, I pushed open the car-door and began stepping out of the vehicle, only to see Pete, the doorman, bolt out of the building and yank my door open even wider – so wide, in fact, that I was half-worried it would fly off its hinges.
His eyes were frantic as he told me, "Am I ever glad to see you."
It was so unlike him that I paused in mid-step. "Why? Is something wrong?"
As if remembering himself, he straightened and said in a much calmer voice. "No. Everything's fine. I'll just inform Jake that you're back."
"That's okay," I told him, hoping to soothe away whatever was wrong. "I'm heading upstairs now." I tried for a reassuring smile. "So I'll just tell Jake myself. You know, in person."
Pete froze, as if unsure how to respond. I waited, wondering why that might be a problem. And the longer he stood there, not saying anything at all, the more uncertain I became.
Before I'd left for that ill-fated walk, Jake and I had been fighting. I'd stormed out, and he hadn't tried to stop me. And now, Pete was acting all funny. What did that mean? Had Jake changed the key-codes while I'd been away? Was I not allowed in his condo anymore?
No, I told myself. Jake wouldn't do that. He wouldn't kick me out over one stupid fight. And even if he were kicking me out, he wouldn’t do it like this.
Would he?
Jake was the guy I loved, and I knew he loved me. But I'd seen him act in ways that were beyond cold when it came to other girls. When he was done with them, for whatever reason, he didn't mess around with the normal niceties.
The sound of throat-clearing jolted me back to reality. It was Bianca, leaning her head out of her open car window. She was glaring at Pete. "Excuse me," she called in a tone of obvious annoyance, "Aren't you planning to get my door?"
Before Pete could answer, I did. "Oh for God's sake, get it yourself, will you?"
Her lips pursed. "In case you haven't noticed, the car is wet."
"Really?" I said, letting the sarcasm drip from my voice, much like the water that was still dripping from my hair. "I had no idea."
She ignored my comment and kept on talking. "And why should I have to get it, when there's a perfectly good doorman, right there?" She gave a toss of her long, dark – and yes, perfectly dry – hair. "I know you're not used to such things, but trust me, there's a protocol to this."
She turned back to Pete and said, "Well? I'm waiting."
"Of course," he stammered, hustling forward to open her car door. "I apologize. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't," Bianca snapped. And then, while he waited, she took her sweet time getting out of the vehicle, showing off her long, tan legs and jaunty peach heels that, of course, perfectly matched her designer dress.
When Pete closed the car door behind her, she waltzed away, giving him zero thanks.
I felt my blood pressure rise. I'd been in Pete's shoes countless times, maybe not as a doorman. But I'd had my share of service jobs. Most people were great. But others – people like Bianca – seemed to get a real kick out of pushing someone around, just because they could.
As Vince's car pulled away, I watched Bianca stroll casually across the ornate outdoor rug that led to the building's glass double-doors. My gaze narrowed, and my fingers clenched. Maybe she could use a good push, and I didn’t mean verbally.
In spite of everything, the thought was almost enough to make me smile.
I turned back to Pete. "Sorry about that." I wasn't even sure why I was apologizing. Obviously, Bianca's rudeness wasn't my fault, but that didn't change the fact that I was really sorry to see it.
But Pete wasn't even listening. He'd pulled out a cell phone and had it pressed against his ear, as if waiting for someone to answer on the other end. A second later, he said, "She's back." Pausing, he glanced briefly in my direction. "Here. In front of the building."
He waited a beat, and then said, "Yes, sir. Will do." He disconnected the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. He turned to me and said, "Let's get you inside
, shall we?"
My eyebrows furrowed. "Was that Jake you were talking to?" I knew the question was kind of nosy, but since his conversation had obviously been about me, I figured a little nosiness was perfectly justified.
But before he could answer, we were interrupted, once again, by the sounds of loud throat-clearing. We both turned to look, and there she was, Bianca, standing just outside the building's glass double-doors.
Her eyebrows lifted as she eyed Pete with obvious impatience – waiting, apparently, for him to get one of those doors, too.
Oh, for crying out loud. The building's lobby wasn't even locked, not at this hour. And unless her arms had mysteriously broken within the last minute, she was perfectly capable of pulling open at least one of those doors all by herself.
But apparently, she had something else in mind. She was still glaring at Pete. "I'm waiting," she told him.
I made a sound of annoyance. "For what?" I called. "For him to carry you inside?"
Her eyes flashed in my direction. "I wasn't talking to you." She lifted a long finger and pointed it at Pete. "I was talking to him." She gave Pete a stiff smile. "You do realize that I'm friends with the owner of this building, right? One call, and I'll have your job."
That made me pause. Who did own the building? Honestly, I had no idea. But based on Bianca's confident demeanor, it seemed a mistake to goad her further – not for my sake, but for Pete's.
The building was nice. It had twenty floors of high-end apartments, along with a few condos and a fitness center.
As far as premium space, Jake had claimed a good chunk of it. He owned the penthouse on the top floor, and rented – or owned, I still wasn't quite sure – the floor just beneath it. No doubt, that meant he had a lot of pull as far as building-politics were concerned.
But if the building's owner wanted to get rid of Pete, I wasn't a hundred-percent sure that Jake would be able to save him, assuming he'd even want to.
Suddenly, I was drowning in a sea of uncertainty. Was Jake on his way down, right now, to kick me out? And if he did kick me out, where would I go? More importantly, how would I ever live without him?
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