No Time For Love

by Tina Radcliffe

  Nicki followed and triumphantly snatched the shoe from the counter. “She said she’d call back. And by the way, you’re welcome.” Her voice echoed her agitation.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Always this pleasant in the morning?” He poured two mugs of steaming coffee.

  “It depends on what side of the couch I wake up on.”

  His lips twitched. “Cream?”

  “Black.”

  Steve slid the thick, white restaurant mug toward her, and for a moment Nicki simply inhaled the scent, praying for order in her world.

  “Nice, huh?”

  She nodded.

  “I buy the beans fresh from a local roaster. Worth every penny.”

  Nicki sipped and nearly sighed aloud. Yes, it was worth every penny. The coffee woke her up and a familiar, edgy restlessness took over. There was business to be done and the clock was ticking. Today was Saturday, and Tuesday was less than seventy-two hours away.

  The walls of the small apartment closed in. She had to re-group. Walking up to the counter, she slapped her palms onto the cool granite. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Smith. I really must leave.”

  “Steve.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say his name.

  “Your coffee? Take the mug. I picked it up at a second-hand store.”

  “Thank you.” She grabbed her bag and headed for the door. Protecting the precious coffee, she moved down the stairs and pushed open the glass door. Her hand gripped the rail as she leaned over and took a deep breath.

  “Why, Miss Baldwin. How nice to see you again.”

  Nicki whirled around. The good twin was coming up the walk, a white pastry box in her hands. Madeline. That was her name. Her snowy top knot wobbled precariously as she plucked several faded petals from a pot of pansies.

  She stuffed the petals into the pocket of her dress and then sat down on a cement step. With a smile, she patted the spot next to her, indicating for Nicki to sit.

  Well, what was one more person telling her what to do? Perhaps she could pump the good twin for information, then the last twelve hours wouldn’t be a total waste of time.

  Nicki sat.

  Madeline carefully pulled back the edges of the box and peeked inside. Her face lit up, eyes beaming as she turned to Nicki. “Cream-filled éclairs. They’ll be perfect with your coffee.”

  She put the box under Nicki’s nose. “My sister is lactose intolerant.” A giggle tumbled from her thin lips.

  “No, thank you,” Nicki said.

  “Oh, please,” she urged. “Decadence is twice as good when it’s shared. Don’t you think?”

  “I’ve never really thought about it.” She hadn’t. So why was a picture of Steven Smith flashing through her mind?

  The older woman set out a stack of white napkins. With a sigh, Nicki gave in, dipping into the box for a fat pastry. She’d eaten more in the last twenty-four hours than she had all last week.

  “I love this time of day,” Madeline said. “The neighborhood is so peaceful.”

  Nicki glanced around at the unimpressive houses. Yes, it was peaceful and the view of the sun rising above the blossoming trees was lovely, but it didn’t erase the fact that the neighborhood was deteriorating.

  Why would Steven Smith spend so much money to save at house on this street? She’d been scrambling all her life to get out of neighborhoods like this. And where did he get the money to buy it?

  “I’m so glad Steven found a nice girl like you. Even my sister approves of you.”

  Nicki almost choked. She carefully chewed and swallowed. “We’re not...that is, I’m here for business.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly dear. He likes you. You like him.” She reached out a wrinkled hand to pat Nicki on the arm.

  Like him?

  Oh, he knew how to push her buttons, and yes, he was wickedly handsome. But she didn’t plan on letting that get in the way of her plans.

  Not even a chance. She had her eye on the prize and nothing was going to keep her from reaching her goals.

  “How long has Mr. Smith lived here?”

  “About a year, and he’s certainly changed in that time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s relaxed now. Smiles and laughs. He doesn’t even look like the same man.”

  “He doesn’t?”

  “Oh, no. When he moved in he had very short hair and there wasn’t a beard. Why he reminded me of you. Moving all the time. Restless energy. Now, he’s learned to relax.” She nodded in obvious approval of the transformation in her neighbor.

  Nicki glanced up at the windows behind her. Sure enough, he was watching them, a dark shadow against the glass with a mug in his hand. She shivered.

  “Where did he come from?” she asked Madeline.

  “I don’t know, dear. But he appeared just when we needed him. Now, he’s saving our house for us. What would we do without him? I like to think of Steven as our guardian angel.”

  Nicki winced. Madeline probably wouldn’t have shared her éclair if she realized that she was talking to the woman who wanted to take her home away from her. She bit into the pastry contemplating her next move.

  “Delicious isn’t it?”

  Okay, she had to admit that the light and flaky pastry, filled with cream and topped with chocolate was amazing. Drowning her frustration in the calories, she took a few more bites.

  “Do you want another? I have more.”

  “Oh, no, thank you.” Nicki dusted off her hands. “I don’t usually eat this much. Between this and the pasta, I’ve gained a few pounds I’m sure.” She lifted the coffee mug to her lips.

  “No one can resist Steven’s cooking and if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t look like a few pounds would hurt.”

  “I don’t usually have time to eat.”

  Madeline lifted a brow.

  “Why is it that he’s always cooking?” Nicki asked.

  “He lost his mother. She was straight from Italy. He’s been cooking all the recipes in her journal since he moved in. And he’s good. Why he’s good enough to open his own restaurant.”

  Nicki recalled that she’d said the same thing. She mulled for a few more minutes. “So you don’t know where he came from?”

  He doesn’t talk much about himself, and we don’t like to pry.”

  “Does he have a job?”

  Madeline shook her head. “No, not that I know of.”

  “You don’t find that peculiar?”

  The older woman shrugged her thin shoulders.

  “None of this makes any sense.” The words escaped before she had time to note the door opening behind her.

  “Does everything have to make sense?”

  Nicki didn’t have to ask who said the words. Steven Smith’s voice was taut, the undertone unmistakable. She stood and turned.

  “I’d better go now.”

  This time he didn’t dissuade her. She’d overstepped and knew it. She handed him the mug and moved quickly down the steps and toward her car. She wasn’t going to look back.

  There was no point in regrets.

  Chapter 4

  “Come on baby,” she urged the little car. “You can do it.” Nicki down-shifted and the rattling car chugged weakly as it pulled into the townhouse complex.

  Parking in the shade, she sat for a moment, thinking. Soon she’d be in a position to trade the old car in for a new one. All she had to do was convince Steven Smith to give the building back.

  Until then it would probably be best to drive the company truck. Finney didn’t use it and the vehicle sat in the parking lot most of the time.

  She ran her hands through her hair. How had things spiraled so out of control so quickly?

  Last night, for example. Last night wasn’t like her. She wasn’t herself when Steven Smith was around. He reduced her to a stumbling, fumbling mess, her composure shot to bits. And he enjoyed it.

  Think, positive, she told herself.

  There was still a chance to tur
n things around before her meeting with Finney. Sure, it looked impossible but she’d been up against the wire before. If fact, she had thrived on it in the past. And truth be told, she’d certainly been in worse jams.

  Much worse.

  A vision of her father came to mind immediately. If nothing else Big Nick had taught her to be a scrapper and not a quitter. Probably the only thing she had to thank her father for.

  She wasn’t about to give up on this deal.

  There was something suspicious about Steven Smith, and she intended to find out what was going on behind that engaging smile.

  The phone call in his apartment only confirmed her gut feelings. She’d spent Saturday morning in the office using her computer to do a little undercover work, attempting to find out anything she could about the man. Thanks to a friend of Big Nick’s, she’d developed a real talent for accessing some alternative information routes.

  There were no records on Steven Smith anywhere.

  He didn’t exist.

  Well, that was a ridiculous. She knew he was real. Real flesh and blood. More flesh than she cared to recall.

  So how did the man come up with the funds to buy the building? Maybe she was right; maybe he did keep his money in his mattress, because he certainly didn’t keep it at any local bank.

  The man was a mystery, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found out what was going on. It would help if she could find her cell phone first.

  Her hand slid under her car seat. No phone there either. It had to be somewhere. She’d seen it last when Steve tossed it on his couch, but she was sure that she’d put in her bag. Hadn’t she?

  She grabbed four plastic bags of groceries out of the car with one hand, picked up her satchel in the other and shoved the door shut with her hip. Turning, she attempted to lock the door, almost dropping the jug of laundry soap that was under her arm.

  “Oh, forget it. Maybe I’ll get lucky and someone will steal this piece of junk.”

  No, she wasn’t that lucky. Shaking her head, she cut around several parked cars on her way to her building. The echo of voices met her ears. Curious, she raised her head.

  Her satchel slipped from her fingers. As she stood, mouth agape, papers floated to the ground around her.

  No, she wasn’t that lucky.

  Sitting at the top of the stairs was Steven Smith. She gulped as she recognized the man seated next to him.

  Dear Lord, it was her father.

  Big Nick sat gesturing with his hands to the younger man. The two heads were bowed as they talked. Her father’s short white hair was a stark contrast to Steve’s long black mane, pulled back in its customary ponytail.

  Why now? Why now after she’d finally gotten things together?

  Why was her father back?

  She stood half-hidden between two cars for a moment, trying to remember how to breathe.

  Carrots! Asparagus! Brussel sprouts! Why now?

  Nicki bent down to retrieve the papers, thrusting them into her bag as she watched the men chatting like long lost friends.

  Didn’t it just figure?

  Kindred spirits. Soul mates. Two charming, manipulating con-men.

  Nick Baldwin hadn’t changed much in two years. To give him credit, at least he’d cleaned up before he hit her up for another loan. She eyed his shiny loafers and then the well-pressed dress pants and crisp oxford shirt. He even had a tie on.

  The only time he wore a tie was when he was on his way to court. She frowned. Today was Saturday.

  What was the scam?

  Getting rid of Steven Smith was the first order of business. Then she could get rid of her father.

  How she was going to orchestrate the next few minutes she didn’t know. But she was Big Nick’s daughter, so somehow she’d manage to pull it off.

  Nicki stepped forward out of the shadow of the car. Steve’s eyes met hers and he stood. Immediately her father’s head swiveled in her direction and he too stood, brushing at his tan slacks.

  “Nicki,” Nick said with a plastic grin in place as he ran a nervous hand through his thick hair. His voice was gravelly as ever from years of abusing himself with drink and smoke.

  She put a smile on her own face.

  “Nick, what a surprise. I thought you were still at the country club.”

  Big Nick arched a brow. “Yeah, well, I left a little early. Didn’t want to outstay my welcome.”

  They both understood that he meant he’d gotten out early for being such a model prisoner. She refrained from rolling her eyes.

  “Nice of you to stop by on your way through town,” she returned. “When are you leaving?”

  “Your father’s flown non-stop from California to see you.”

  Rutabaga.

  For the briefest of moments she’d forgotten Steve was there. She assessed him as he leaned against the railing in his jeans and white t-shirt, all bulk and biceps like the poster boy for trouble. As tempting as he was, if you liked that sort of man, Nicki didn’t need any more trouble in her life.

  Her gaze moved to her father. Currently, her hands were full. Literally and figuratively.

  She sighed and adjusted the grocery sacks.

  Immediately her father and Steve rushed forward to take them from her, moving up to the steps to place them on the small patio outside of her complex door.

  Ironic how both men stood between her and the future she’d so carefully mapped out. Her father she’d deal with later. Steve was business, and as irritating as it was to have to kiss up to him... She froze and her eyes moved to his full lips.

  Regroup.

  Not kiss up. This was a business strategy, part of the job. She needed to keep the door between them open, at least a fraction, until the time she could shut it in his overly confident face.

  “May I help you in some way, Mr. Smith?”

  “Steve.”

  “Steve.”

  “You left this.” Moving down the stairs towards her, he held out her precious phone.

  Panic streaked through her. She could handle that personal information was listed in the notes application of the phone, but she prayed he hadn’t seen the detailed outline of her plans for the Cappuccino Junction expansion deal.

  “I didn’t peek, don’t worry.”

  “That’s a crock,” she muttered, moving up to the next step, and reaching for phone.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I said thanks a lot.”

  He frowned and withdrew the cell.

  “Hey,” she balked. “Is this the only game you know?”

  “What’s going on with you and your father?” he asked, his voice low.

  She too lowered her voice. “Not a thing. We have a perfectly normal dysfunctional relationship.” She smiled sweetly and grabbed the phone from his hands.

  Her father moved down several steps to join them. “I sure could use a cup of coffee, Nicki.” He grinned and cocked his head to Steve. “How about you?”

  “There’s a nice little restaurant right around the corner,” Nicki stated. “You two go right ahead.”

  “Aw, now I’m sure Steve would rather visit with you than me.”

  “I don’t have any coffee.” She glared at her father, but he was busy sizing up the other man.

  What was Nick up to now? Smoke was practically coming out of his ears.

  He grinned and put a large hand on Steve’s back. “Don’t you let Nicki scare you off, son. She may seem a little bristly, but that’s only because she’s shy.”

  Nicki almost choked. She opened her mouth and snapped it shut. Deep breath, she urged herself. Fumbling with her key chain she started up the stairs past them both.

  “You really don’t have a coffee pot?” Steve asked.

  “I get free coffee from the Cappuccino Junction shops all over Denver.”

  “Water’s good. Right Steve?” Nick gave Steve a hearty pat on the back. “Nothing like a glass of water.”

  Nicki stopped on the stairs and turned around. Again her
eyes shifted back and forth between the two men. They were even starting to look alike.

  It was her own fault. If she’d ingest something besides candy bars and Cappuccino Junction Java occasionally, maybe she could deal with this. Maybe her nerves wouldn’t be stretched taut. Maybe she wouldn’t have this urgent desire to stomp her feet and yell.

  She turned away from the amused look on Steve’s face, and met her father’s inordinately huge grin. His eyes twinkled with delight.

  He was up to something. A shiver skimmed over her.

  The knowledge that she was right slammed into her. She knew Nick and she knew that in a split second he’d planned his next scam.

  Minutes later, at her father’s insistence they moved the party into her townhouse.

  “Aren’t you glad to see me?” Big Nick asked.

  That was a trick question. And it was definitely a question she was not going to answer in front of Steve.

  “Why Nick, it’s always good to see you.”

  A phone rang and her father pulled a cell from his back pocket. “Mind if I take this?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he moved into her living room.

  Nicki reached for a grocery bag at the same time Steve did. Their hands touched, and she hastily retreated, allowing him to pull out the stack of frozen meals.

  “You really eat this stuff?”

  “We can’t all be gourmands.”

  “It isn’t even real food.” He turned over a box and studied the label.

  Nicki snatched the box from his hands. “We’ve known each other twenty-four hours and already you’re assessing my nutritional intake?”

  “Is that all it’s been? Seems like I’ve known you forever,” he murmured.

  The softly spoken words wrapped themselves around her. Startled, she met his gaze.

  He smiled, and she realized he was messing with her again.

  Well, two could definitely play that game.

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?” she asked.

  This time it was Steve who looked surprised. He narrowed his eyes and then shrugged as he leaned negligently against the refrigerator. “I wouldn’t rule it out. My father and mother fell in love over a weekend. He was on a leave from the army and stationed in Europe when he impulsively took a train to see Rome. His life was changed forever. Mine too.”