Tucking both hands in his pockets, Jon perused up and
down the sidewalk. The sun was just
starting to angle downward for its late afternoon descent, still bright enough
to make him squint even behind tinted lenses, but he thought that was her
little form hustling up the block.
They’d talked last night for a few minutes about
impersonal things, like setting up this meeting to look at apartments. Delaney also mentioned seeing Jesse and,
other than Jon’s remark about looking forward to seeing her this evening, that
was as personal as their conversation had gotten.
He’d thought about her when crawling in his Four Seasons
bed and the thoughts continued when his eyes were shut in the still and
darkened room. She had a delicate little
snore that he would likely come to hate, but since they were still in that
infatuation stage of the game, its absence had created a notable silence. The quiet was bothersome enough that he’d cued up a
thunderstorm soundtrack on his phone to fall asleep.
Tonight, he wouldn’t need it, because she would be
sleeping over again. Confirming that the
silhouette approaching was her also confirmed that she remembered there was a
slumber party on the schedule. She had a
bag hiked over her shoulder and dimples shone beneath a pair of aviator
sunglasses and an artfully mussed topknot.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he greeted, reluctantly keeping his hands in his
pockets and a respectable distance between them. It was a chore, considering that he was
physically affectionate by nature and even casual acquaintances warranted hugs
and kisses. “Preserving you from the gossip rags is the only reason I don’t
have my tongue down your throat. I’ll
make it up to you later.”
“You’d better.”
Her eyes were hidden by dark lenses, but it didn’t dull the heat of her
gaze on him. “You look good in black,
like you don’t already know that.”
Black was easy, and he wore way too much of it, according
to anyone and everyone who felt compelled to comment on his wardrobe. Tonight’s button-down happened to be one of
his favorites just because it was comfortable.
“And you look better in nothing at all, but I like your shirt.”
The snowy peasant blouse fluttered loosely while still
managing to accentuate her curves, along with another snug pair of jeans. It was a casual yet feminine look, and she must
be pleased by the compliment since her grin became nearly as blinding as the sun
behind her.
“Thanks. I’m being
brave in wearing white. I usually can’t
keep from spilling something on it.”
“Probably a bad time to tell you’re we’re having Italian
for dinner, then, huh?” They weren’t,
but he couldn’t resist teasing her. There
was something about Delaney that brought out the playful side of him and he was
enjoying it.
She patted the bag with a laugh. “No worries.
I have reinforcements.”
“Damn, and here I thought I’d found the perfect way to
get you topless.”
“For future reference, asking me to strip is just as
effective and saves you a few brain cells.”
God what he’d give to wrap up this sassy little sprite in
his arms and forget about real estate. If only he didn’t need a fucking place to
live.
This limbo was the price he was paying for postponing
everything for so long. He’d thought
real estate transactions would stir unwanted speculation before they were ready,
but in hindsight he should’ve taken the risk.
It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d owned two Manhattan apartments
at once.
Basically, he was a dumbass who was now just stuck doing
what he was doing. At least Delaney had taken
care of the worst part and was keeping him company in the meantime. Things could be worse.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he drawled, putting his desires
on the back burner in favor of his needs.
“Tell me again this realtor’s name.”
“Speaking of lost brain cells…”
Jon peered sternly at her over the top of his
sunglasses. “Keep it up, smart mouth, and
there won’t be any wine with dinner.”
Her heavily adorned hands went up in surrender, amusing
him more than it should. “Great Caesar’s
ghost, anything but that! Her name is
Avery.”
“Avery.”
Hopefully, he’d still remember it when she got here. “And how do you know her?”
“She’s- Freep a sheep. No. No
way.”
The angle of Delaney’s neck gave away what her aviators
hid – that she was looking somewhere beyond him and the portico where they
stood.
Needing to know what brought such a scowl to her face, he
automatically swiveled around to find a man approaching. With dark hair that was well on its way to
graying, he was attired in a way that could be classified as dress-casual with the blue sportscoat and a dress shirt that looked exceptionally white against dark
jeans. He had a black leather portfolio
under his left arm and the aviators that he wore as protection against the
afternoon sun looked just like Delaney’s.
“What’s the matter?
Who is that?” Jon quizzed.
“Someone I guarantee is about to royally tick me off.”
She’d barely grumbled the words when the guy slid to a
halt before them, extending his hand with a smile suited for a toothpaste
ad. “Mr. Bon Jovi? Hi, I’m Geoff Gardener. Avery had something come up at the last minute,
so I’ll be showing the properties to you this afternoon.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Jon automatically graced the other man with a perfunctory smile and
decisive handshake while mulling the name over in his head. Gardener?
As in…?
“Dellie.” The
Crest smile found its way to Delaney but shifted from carrying the intent to
schmooze to delivering smugness. “You’re
looking well.”
“You know I hate that name,” she grumbled and turned her
frowning face to Jon. “Geoff’s my
ex-husband, and I’m not sure why he’s here.
Avery would never pass a showing over to him.”
“That’s true.” The
slick salesman was back to charming Jon with the even whiteness of his
teeth. “It was opportune timing that
found me at the secretary’s desk when Avery called to have someone cover for her.”
“More likely you were screwing the secretary on the desk.”
“Don’t be tacky, Dellie.
If you’ll check the phone that you probably don’t have with you, I’m
sure you’ll find at least one text from Avery.”
Jon didn’t know dick about this guy but already didn’t
like him.
Delaney he knew well enough to predict what her eyes looked like behind the sunglass lenses riveted on her ex, and there would be a shit-ton of lighting flashing in them. The residual electricity held her back ramrod straight and both shoulders rigid. She was pissed enough that Jon risked sidling closer and settling a hand at the small of her back to work soothing circles against the fabric.
Delaney he knew well enough to predict what her eyes looked like behind the sunglass lenses riveted on her ex, and there would be a shit-ton of lighting flashing in them. The residual electricity held her back ramrod straight and both shoulders rigid. She was pissed enough that Jon risked sidling closer and settling a hand at the small of her back to work soothing circles against the fabric.
“There’s been a change in plans.” His declaration was woven of derived
arrogance that he’d long-ago learned to summon at will, in self-defense. If he acted like he was in control, he was. “This isn’t a good time, and we’ll reschedule
when Avery is available.”
The lightning daggers hurled at Geoff from behind tinted
lenses downgraded to Nerf darts when those lenses shifted again to Jon. “No.
You need to get this process started.
I’ll keep quiet or leave.
Whatever makes this better for you.”
Finding out what kind of asshole Geoff Gardener was would
make it better for him. Clearly, he was
someone who invited a divorce that was less than amicable, and Jon wanted to
know the source of Delaney’s resentment.
“You and I are a package deal tonight,” he murmured under
his breath, too quietly for the other man to overhear. “I’ll gladly wait for your friend if this
makes you uncomfortable.”
“Once again proving you’re the nicest man in the world,” came
the equally soft return murmur. Her
frown didn’t exactly turn upside down, but it wasn’t nearly as stern now. “Who still needs an apartment, so I will try
to curb my bitterness long enough for you to look at one in peace.”
His first inclination was to say he didn’t care about the
apartment, but the fact was that he did.
Based on Delaney’s reaction, there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d give her
ex the commission, but Jon would at least know whether to mark this one off the
list for a re-visit when Avery became available.
With a short nod, he firmly informed Geoff, “It looks
like the timing just became better.
Ready when you are.”
“Great! I haven’t
personally seen your list of requested amenities, but this is an awesome
building. I’ve sold three here in the
last year, all for multi-millions.”
Great. The guy was
a number dropper. He’d probably find a
way to drop the buyers’ names before the end of the appointment, too.
When they entered the building, Delaney and Geoff both
removed their sunglasses while Jon purposely left his seated atop his
nose. It was a maneuver that had proven,
if not intimidating, then at least efficient in communicating the celebrity status
he didn’t typically flaunt. The
condescending smile this guy was giving Delaney made Jon want to flaunt every
goddamn zero in his checking account and trot out all the awards, too.
“How’s your little flower shop doing, Dellie? Not so well, I guess, since it seems you’ve
gotten a second job as a personal assistant.”
Her mouth went tight as they glided past the doorman, and
Jon opened his mouth to tell the
jerkoff exactly why Delaney was here. She
closed one eye and rolled the other, and her slight head shake had him biting
his tongue.
He set his mental timer for ten minutes. That’s all the time he was giving this
apartment tour before they ditched the guy who was blatantly pushing Delaney’s
buttons and pissing Jon off in the process.
“I work only for myself and it’s flourishing.”
Good girl.
When the elevator arrived, they stepped inside and were
immediately closed into a plush interior.
Geoff tapped the top button on the panel while Jon followed Delaney’s lead
and rested his hips against the brass rail. They were side by side, and he was far less
worried about keeping his distance here than outside, going so far as to hook
his index finger around her pinky and squeezing.
The other man’s eyes didn’t miss it, but he pasted on his
professional smile and insincerely assured her, “Glad to hear it.
Heard from Poppy lately?”
The casual question was spiked with pompous undertones that
had Delaney going stiff next to Jon. If
she was as upset as her body language indicated, she should consider
a career in acting, because there was nothing beyond friendliness in her voice
when suggesting, “Why don’t you tell Jon about this apartment instead of
reminding me what an aardvark anus you are?”
The laugh came up so quick and suddenly that it got
caught in Jon’s throat, forcing him to cough around it while she stared
serenely ahead at the brushed brass doors.
He had to give it to his Mou and her Sesame Street swearing. A guy couldn’t ever forget being called a
name like that. Ever.
Geoff didn't share that serenity, and handsome features went
stony in the instant before he started reciting the highlights they could expect. “This penthouse unit is a glamorous
three-bedroom, three-and-half-bathroom in triple-mint condition. There are enormous floor-to-ceiling windows
and the main attraction is a 1,000-bottle state-of-the-art, glass-enclosed wine
cellar with a private bar.”
“Outdoor space?”
The realtor nodded as the doors parted on the building’s
top floor. “Three terraces.”
Being a New Yorker required close quarters and apartment
life, but Jon liked having access to outside whenever he wanted it. That feature in addition to the wine cellar
and bar might mean this place would get a second look.
One of the terraces was readily visible as soon as they
entered the penthouse, and it was the first thing he wanted to inspect. The view wasn’t what interested him, though,
and he tightened the grip on Delaney’s pinky to guide her that direction.
“Give us a minute Geoff.”
The order left no room for compromise, and Jon flipped
the lock that would put them on a six-by-eight flagstone terrace. He closed the door behind them and gently
coerced her to the rail that offered a view of the Empire State Building.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Although their fingers were snaked around one another, they both faced
the view.
“Yeah.” Her reply
was quiet but confident as the breeze picked up the loose tendrils at her neck
and ears. “I didn’t expect to see him,
so I went into instasnark mode. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he commanded gruffly. “Wanna go have loud sex in the bathroom and
make him listen? See if that makes you
feel better?”
She slowly pivoted her head, and when turning to her, he
was faced with a smile more intense than any he’d ever seen. Her entire face glowed with the effort. Mirthful eyes sparkled like pewter glitter in
the late day sun, decorated with delicate laugh lines, and her dimples were
deep enough to drown a man. Fascinated
by her allure, Jon decided he could have sex with her right here and completely
forget about the guy watching them through the massive windows.
“Aardvark anus will tide me over, but I adore you for
offering,” she murmured, lifting a hand to briefly stroke his jaw. “You’re so much more than people realize.”
Delaney had a skewed vision of him, but for once, he
didn’t mind being put on a short pedestal.
It was hard to mind much of anything when she studied him with rapt
fascination that was for the real him and not his job title. Whether Jon admitted out loud or not, he had
a girlfriend for the first time in thirty years and she was making him feel
like a kid again.
“I’m a guy who will fuck at the drop of a hat,” came the gentle
scoff. “And is that what I have to look
forward to? Being called an aardvark
anus?”
One shoulder shifted slightly under the light cotton of
her blouse as mischievousness crept into her countenance. “Only if you are one.”
No comments:
Post a Comment