by Jo Leigh
It kept him occupied for a couple of minutes while he stood in line, but then thoughts of Shannon returned to bedevil him. He wasn’t dim about women. He had enough empirical evidence to prove it. He was perfectly capable of picking up signals, and ever since the wedding, he and Shannon had definitely been signaling. Which was complicated because—
“Oh,” he said aloud, gaining the attention of the older woman in front of him. He smiled briefly, then went back to his revelation.
She’d left because of the signals. The heat between them.
No, wait, that wasn’t quite right. She’d run because of the complications that came along with the heat between them. Now everything was falling into place. He sighed, and it must have been a hell of a sigh because the same older woman put her hand on the back of her hair, turned and gave him a very disgruntled glare.
He smiled again, dismissed the notion of apologizing and went back to his theory. Luckily, the unhappy woman and her group were led to a table, and a few minutes later he was sitting in a small booth underneath a wall of framed celebrity photographs, staring at a large menu.
Since he already knew what he was having, he waited impatiently for someone to take his order, asking preemptively for take-out containers, then, with his Dr. Brown’s Cream Soda crackling over ice, he pulled out his cell phone.
He turned it so he could text, then thought for a moment before he decided to keep things light and easy. No reason to stir the pot yet.
I can order an extra knish if you want. Maybe some chopped liver?
Nate smiled at that. Shannon hated liver in any guise. As the seconds ticked by, his smile faded. He probably shouldn’t have texted her. She’d left because she was uncomfortable, and he could only guess at the why. That whole signal thing? Was that just wishful thinking on his part? He got all hot and bothered when he touched her, or saw her, or thought of her, but she might not feel a thing.
Maybe he was making her uncomfortable, not the complications. She’d come to see the condo tonight because she felt obligated. He was Danny’s best friend, practically part of their family. Of course she’d agree to come help him find a place. She wanted him out of the house. Her house. Jesus, what had he—
His phone beeped, notifying him of an incoming text. He clicked it so fast he almost dropped the phone.
Thanks, but that’s ok. Sorry I ran off.
Don’t worry about it. Stuff happens.
It was rude. I wanted to ask you something.
I’m all ears. Or eyes, I suppose.
Nate tensed. He felt it from his neck to his calves. It didn’t make a lot of sense, considering she was probably going to ask him something completely innocuous.
U interested in dating while you’re in town?
Dating? She was asking him on a date? On the cell phone? So he’d been right. It was about the signals. He’d known it, dammit. Things didn’t get that hot between two people without both of them knowing. Especially when one of them had worn nothing but a towel and a rising hard-on. But he still had to play it cool. It would be a damn shame to scare her off now.
Sure. What did u have in mind?
He sipped his soda as he waited. And waited. It must be one hell of a long text because she was taking her sweet time. His food came, and he kept watching the phone as the waitress arranged the big plates on the small table. Finally, another ding.
He was back to tense in a second, only this time it was with eager anticipation.
My cousin Ariel met u at the wedding. She’d like to meet u for drinks tmrow nite at Molly’s. She’s great. Pretty. You’ll like her.
The breath he’d been holding rushed out of him, smothering the spark starting to flame. He didn’t remember meeting anyone named Ariel at the wedding. He had no interest in going for drinks with Shannon’s cousin. How the hell had he gotten things so screwed up?
Sure. Send me her #. I’ll call.
His typing was slow, each word a punch to his gut. It wasn’t easy to press Send, but he did.
The pause that followed gave him enough time to realize the containers the waitress had brought weren’t going to be sufficient. His hunger had vanished, and while he wanted to walk out and leave it all behind, he wasn’t going to. That would be ridiculous. Shannon wasn’t intentionally hurting him. There was nothing between them, couldn’t be anything between them. Any interest he’d experienced had been one-sided. It happened. Not to him, not before now, and that was why he was caught off guard. Hell, he was just her brother’s friend, that’s all.
In fact, what she was doing was something friends did. It was nice of her to set him up. A few dates would keep him from getting bored as he waited to get back to his real home.
The beep sounded, and he hoped it wasn’t her saying goodbye.
It was.
* * *
SHANNON KNEW HE WAS HOME. Not because she’d heard him—the one thing this old brownstone had was excellent soundproofing as long as there weren’t connecting walls. No, for some reason she couldn’t fathom, Danny had knocked on her damn door and announced Nate’s arrival. At least her brother hadn’t opened the door. He knew better. But she especially didn’t want Nate to see her like this. In her flannel nightgown, scrunched under her covers, TV on some show she didn’t care about, her laptop open on some website on marketing she hadn’t bothered to read and a big bowl of Kraft’s blue box of macaroni and cheese in her hands, the alarmingly orange pasta being devoured as quickly as she could shove the spoonfuls in her mouth.
She hummed a bar of “I Feel Pretty” then sagged against her pillows. How had her life come to this? And why, why was the nonstarter with Nate the thing that was crushing her chest?
It must be transference. Better to obsess about a guy than the very real fear that she couldn’t save the plant. That no matter how many times she thought things would be okay, that the family would move on, that the struggle to hold on to a building and a brownstone when they were worth enough that her whole family could be secure for the rest of their lives was idiotic… .
Yes, better to think about a guy, when the truth was, she couldn’t let the business go. Everything in her believed in holding on. That what her family had was precious and worth keeping, and that money—even barrels of money—was no replacement for the legacy, the lessons, the heart and soul generations had dedicated to this life.
Maybe her crush—and was there ever a more appropriate word?—on Nate was another way to cling to her past. It probably had nothing to do with the man he was now. But what he represented. Continuity. Treasured memories.
She put the almost empty bowl on her nightstand, wanting to weep. She should never have taken those psychology classes at City College.
Finding the remote, she clicked off the TV, then logged off her computer and slipped it under her bed. One click and the room fell dark, except for the alarm clock that mocked her with it’s big red 8:30. She’d never fall asleep this early. Or at all. It was ludicrous to try, but she shut her eyes anyway.
She had no idea what she was going to do tomorrow. How she was going to face Nate. She was a decent actress, but no one was that good. He’d see too much if he got a look at her. Pain, lust, jealousy, sadness. Or maybe that had just been her when she’d looked in the mirror before climbing into bed.
Ariel was a nice person. Nate was, too. And if they slept together, Shannon would shatter like spun glass rolling off a table.
It didn’t matter that he’d never be hers, that wanting him made no sense at all, that she was being ridiculous. She didn’t even know him well enough to like him this much.
Hmm. Maybe she’d gotten it backward, and it would be easier to think about the business closing down. At least that sadness made some sense.
* * *
A SPLASH OF LIGHT ACROSS her eyes woke Shannon with a start. She was shocked she’d fallen asleep at all, let alone ’til morning. But there was no denying the very loud buzzing of her alarm, which she ended as quickly as she could.
H
er eyes felt gummy and her mouth awful. Ah, she hadn’t brushed her teeth. She never went to sleep without brushing her teeth. And, if the evidence were to be believed, she’d wept.
She ought to have remembered that part, no? Given the state of her bed, there’d been lots of tossing and turning. Regardless, it was past 6:00 a.m. and she wanted to make it out of the shower in record time. She planned on grabbing a bite to eat on the way to work, and if the coffee wasn’t ready, she’d buy a cup, too, even though it was a terrible waste of money.
What mattered was leaving the house before she had to face Nate. She should stay, show him Ariel’s picture, talk her cousin up, smile, act like the friend she was pretending to be. But not with puffy eyes. Not this early. She’d send him the photo. That’s what cell phones were made for. Sort of.
Didn’t matter, she was out of bed, had her clothing ready to go, her robe on, and she practically ran to the bathroom. The lock clicking into place was a very welcome sound, and the hot water pouring over her eased some of the tension that had become a regular part of her life. At this rate, she’d have an ulcer by thirty.
She didn’t waste another moment, though, and went through her routine double time. She was glad the mirror was fogged, because she needed to prepare to face herself. Maybe she wouldn’t turn on the lights on her bedroom vanity. No, that wouldn’t work. She needed the makeup too much.
As soon as she made it back to her room, she got dressed, got her iPod out and set it to shuffle. Then she turned that sucker up loud. She planned on listening all the way to the plant and only when her workday began would she let herself think a single thought.
It was an extremely effective technique up until the moment she bumped into Nate in the kitchen.
“Sorry,” he said.
She didn’t hear him say it but even she could read those lips. Tempted to throw up her hands and run, after a moment’s thought, she put the idea aside. She’d have to face him sooner or later, so why not now? The silence when she turned off the music was profound.
“You okay?”
She made a small production of taking out the earbuds. “Didn’t know you were here.”
“So I imagine. You must be pretty serious about your musicals to listen that loud.”
“Musicals are important.”
“So’s your hearing.”
“Thank you, Doctor, I’ll take it under advisement.”
He raised a sardonic brow. “I was getting some coffee.”
The empty mug in his hand had clued her in, but her snarky comeback stalled in her throat as she got a load of him in his pajamas. Spider-Man had been replaced by out-and-out elegance. They were glen plaid, with blue piping, covered by a plush white robe, like something she’d expect to see in the movies, not in their brownstone. The sartorial splendor was damn near dazzling. T-shirts and boxers were the ongoing trend with her brothers, and her father was a flannel man all the way. Nate looked sharp. Sexy.
Shannon went for the cupboard with the mugs before things got out of control. More out of control.
“You gonna take a lunch to work?” Nate asked.
“I hadn’t thought about it,” she said, busy, very, very busy with her to-go cup.
“I could put something together, if you want. I was kidding about the chopped liver. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
She tried to laugh, but had to switch to a cough midway. “Nice of you to remember.”
“Nice of you to set me up with your friend.”
“Cousin.”
“Right. Cousin. Ariel, is it?”
“Yep.” She kept her voice peppy. Making sure to smile as she said the word. That really did work.
“I’ve tried, but I don’t remember her from the wedding.”
“There were so many people there.” Shannon filled her cup from the big old urn, then focused on stirring.
“I stopped noticing after I saw you.”
Her spoon stilled. Her heart raced. She didn’t dare look up. If she looked at him, she was going to fold. She would confess to everything, even if she didn’t know what she was confessing about. One look, and she would get herself into a mess she wouldn’t be able to get out of.
Instead she laughed. The smile trick worked with laughter, too. Well enough, at least. “You were just surprised I wasn’t wearing a tiara.” She kept her head down as she went to the sink. “I’ve got to dash, but—”
Shannon glanced up. It was a mistake, a reflex, but Nate was standing right there, directly in her line of sight, and the way he was looking at her stopped her midsentence.
She felt a punch to her heart, an ache of need and want and please. But only for a second. “I’ll send you her picture,” she said, turning away, pulling down the curtain. “You guys will have a great time, I know it.”
But she got the hell out of the kitchen. Fast. She put on her coat, grabbed her purse and her briefcase and she was out the door. It occurred to her as she reached the subway that it would have looked more natural if she’d said goodbye.
No matter. She’d let down her guard for only an instant. He’d probably thought she’d been making a face about her coffee.
7
AT TWO-THIRTY, NATE CAUGHT a cab and told the driver to take him to Fitzgerald & Sons. He hadn’t been there since high school, but that didn’t matter, he knew the address. It was a huge building, half a block long, and the smell of it—hot-melt glue and the emulsion they used for the lithography—was unforgettable. The noise was crippling, and he and Danny had been under a mandatory earplug rule.
As the cab inched its way through the omnipresent traffic, he made a couple of phone calls, then spun the phone around for texting.
Where are U?
She might not answer him. She’d know the text was his, and she could just not reply and he’d never know if she had turned her cell off for a meeting, or left it in her desk, or if she’d glanced at his name and thought nothing of putting the phone away. But he stared at his screen anyway.
Three very long, slow blocks later, the phone beeped.
At the plant. Why?
U real busy?
Just the usual…
Mind if I stop by?
Anytime. I’ll be here.
Nate clicked out of his phone and put it in his coat pocket. He’d have been in trouble if she’d told him she wasn’t busy. That hadn’t been likely, though. According to Danny, according to everyone who knew Shannon, she was in perpetual motion, if not working on marketing for the plant, then putting together some special event at the church or at a park or coordinating a fundraiser for something or other.
Everyone who lived between Midtown and SoHo knew Shannon Fitzgerald. It wasn’t a surprise she edited the online Gramercy newsletter. She wasn’t involved with the kid pageants anymore, but she did help out with an amateur theater group and a dance studio. Danny hadn’t told him that. Mrs. Fitz had. In fact, Mrs. Fitz had a hell of a lot to say about her only daughter.
None of it had been unkind. Shannon was a blessing to the family, but she was working too hard, doing too much, and for what? Mrs. Fitz had sprayed cabbage soup across the kitchen counter as she waved her spoon during that discourse. Nate had picked up a sponge and followed her around, nodding when appropriate and smiling at how Mrs. Fitz hadn’t changed a bit.
Shannon had, though. He couldn’t think of her anymore as that child he’d known. The pictures of her back then had been replaced by current images, mental snapshots he’d collected since the wedding.
The best part of New York so far? Mornings over coffee, when Shannon was there. Molly’s, with her laughter high and sweet over the noise of the crowd.
He’d spent today with attorneys, nitpicking their way through a contract so complicated it made his head spin. He’d had enough of maneuvering and tricky language. Ever since Shannon had bowled him backward with that look this morning, he’d had a low-grade fever that needed attention. He’d felt as if he’d seen her naked. Want had been clear as day in her eyes, and h
er heat had singed him from across the room.
She was at the plant. Being four blocks away, if the traffic didn’t ease up, he was gonna get out of the cab and walk. Because he needed to know what the hell. That’s all. Just what the hell.
* * *
SHANNON LOOKED UP AT BRADY, who’d stopped talking. Shouting, actually, as they were on the floor of the plant and the noise was ridiculous with three of their biggest machines running. He wasn’t even looking at her, and he seemed surprised.
She turned, expecting to see Nate, but not the effect he’d have on her.
Her whole body reacted. Heat raced up her neck and into her cheeks, her heart could have jump-started a stalled car, and even the small hairs at her nape stood as pure adrenaline replaced all the blood in her veins.
He knew. He knew that she wanted him, that it was killing her to give him to Ariel. He’d seen it this morning, maybe before this morning. He knew she wanted him, and that she thought of him naked, and that she’d masturbated twice while she’d pictured him, and oh, God, maybe she’d blurted out something in her sleep and he’d heard her because the wall was so thin, and now he was coming to tell her to stop. To leave him alone. To quit thinking of him as anything but a friend of the family; for God’s sake, what was she, some kind of animal who couldn’t control herself?