Sleepless In Manhattan

At this rate, that moment was going to be a long way off.

She flopped down on a cushion opposite Jake.

Claws purred and stretched out on Matt’s lap.

“The chosen one,” Frankie murmured. “That cat has serious issues.”

“That’s what makes her interesting.” Matt’s fingers brushed lightly over the cat’s fur. “I know you’re all feeling bruised right now, but you’ll find other jobs.” His shirt was rolled back to his elbows and Paige noticed the scratches on his skin.

“Did Claws do that?”

“A bad-tempered holly bush. It wasn’t supposed to be my job but one of my staff was sick.”

And Matt would have done the work himself rather than let a client down. That was the sort of person he was and the reason his company was growing fast. He was in demand for his creative vision, but he’d never lost the ability to do the work.

“There’s nothing out there, Matt.”

Claws was purring, eyes closed, lost in the gentle slide and stroke of Matt’s fingers.

“You can’t expect to find a job in a few hours. You have to give it time.”

“We don’t have time. Eva and Frankie were given a measly severance package.” And she knew that even if she could swallow her pride for long enough to accept financial support from her brother or her parents, that wasn’t going to help her friends. Misery descended, chilling her skin. “And Eva is right. Even if we do find another job, we won’t be together. We made such a great team. I don’t know what to do.” A solid lump blocked her throat. She hated herself for being so pathetic. She’d been through far worse than this. What the hell had happened to her backbone?

Jake’s gaze locked on hers and she had a nasty suspicion he knew exactly how close she was to breaking down.

She hated that she couldn’t hide her feelings from him as easily as she did with other people.

“I’ll tell you what you should do.” He reached for the champagne, his shirt molding to strong shoulders. He had the body of a fighter, powerful and thickly muscled. “You should celebrate. And two minutes after you’ve drunk that bottle of champagne, you should start your own company. You want control over what your boss does? Make yourself the boss.”

Three

If at first you don’t succeed, change the plan.

—Paige

Make herself the boss?

“What sort of insensitive joke is that?”

Matt gestured to the glasses. “Pour the drink and shut up, Jake. Only serious suggestions are welcome.”

“That was a serious suggestion. Paige was doing all the work in that damn company anyway, why not do it for herself?”

Matt’s hand stilled and Claws nudged him. “Because starting your own business isn’t something you do on a whim. It’s a risk.”

“Life is a risk.” Jake added salad to his plate. “Paige has lost her job, so it’s not as if playing it safe has turned out so great. She’s always talked about starting her own company one day. Maybe this is the day. That way she can choose her own staff and carry on working with Eva and Frankie. Problem solved.”

Paige felt her heart kick against her ribs. It was a crazy idea. Stupid.

Or was it?

Matt winced as Claws sprang off his lap. “What you’re suggesting is a really big step. Now isn’t the time to make a decision like that.”

“It’s the perfect time.” Jake dug his fork into his food and turned to Paige. “Unless you’d rather wallow for a while, in which case go right ahead. Celebration or pity party—I’m in. Pour the bubbles and let’s get started.”

The one point in Jake’s favor, Paige mused, was that he didn’t protect her. He never had.

Of course that didn’t mean he didn’t drive her insane. “I don’t want pity.” She used to love the fact that he knew her so well. Now she wished he didn’t. It was hard to hide from someone who knew all your secrets. It felt like an invasion of privacy, as if she’d given him a key that he’d refused to return. “It’s true that I want to have my own company one day, but I need experience. I need to learn as much as I can and plan carefully. I’m not ready.”

“You mean you’re scared.” With a deft movement of his wrist, Jake opened the champagne and Claws jumped as the cork shot across the terrace.

“I’m not scared.” Paige wondered how he always knew how she was feeling. “That isn’t the reason.”

“Are you good at your job or not?”

“I’m great at my job. That’s why I thought I’d get this promotion, and—”

“Do you need a lot of guidance and support from above?”

Paige thought about the amount of time Cynthia spent hidden in her office. “No.”

“Do you need someone else to bring you the business or are you confident going out there and fronting it? Can you win business?”

“I do that all the time! I’ve brought in nine new clients in the last six months and increased revenue by—”

“We don’t need to talk numbers—we need to talk principles. We’ve established you’re great at your job and that you don’t need support, so the only reason holding you back is the fact that you’re scared of the unknown. It’s easier to play it safe and do what you’ve always done, but you worked for the bitch from hell, Paige, who took all the credit for your hard work. Why would you want to carry on like that?”

“The next person I work for might be different.”

“The only way you’ll be sure of that is if that person is you. Think about it. Cynthia was a sociopath. You don’t have to work with her again. Seems like an opportunity from where I’m sitting.” His voice was rough and sexy, as if he’d had a long night of kissing and hot sex.

Which, knowing Jake, he probably had.

The thought bothered her more than it should have done, as did the hot, restless feeling she got whenever she looked at him. Eva would have said that made her human because Jake Romano was just about the sexiest man on the planet, but she would have preferred to be immune.

There was something humiliating about being attracted to someone who’d made it clear he wasn’t attracted to you. She wanted her body to have more sense.

“You’re accusing me of being a coward.”

“Being scared doesn’t make you a coward. It makes you human.” Calm, Jake put the champagne down. “Pick up a glass. It’s time for plan B, honey.”

“I don’t have a plan B. And don’t call me honey.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not your honey.” But she’d wanted to be. Once, she’d desperately wanted to be.

“I meant,” he said slowly, “why don’t you have a plan B?”

“Oh.” Embarrassment burned through her like acid on metal. Being around him made her feel like a gawky, clumsy teenager, all hormones and no finesse. “I’ve told you. I didn’t think I needed one. I was focused on promotion. Do you have a plan B?”

“Always.” Their eyes locked. “You need to relax. You’re too controlling. You plan every step of your life, but sometimes you have to let life happen. Change is always unsettling, sometimes scary, but you have to let go. Take a risk. Risk can be fun.”

His careless dismissal of her anxiety irritated her as much as his pity would have annoyed her.

“That’s easy for you to say with millions in the bank, more work than you can handle and an apartment to die for. Some of us still have rent to pay.” It was a crass, stupid thing to say and she instantly regretted it, especially since she knew her response was driven by frustration about her feelings for him as much as anything else.

“How do you think those millions got there, Paige?” He didn’t bother masking his irritation. “You think I woke up one morning and found myself wealthy? You think I logged on and discovered someone had transferred several million into my bank account? I built my company through hard work, graft and determination. And I pay my own rent. I always have.”

There was a loud noise as Frankie dropped a pot on the terrace. It shattered, sending pieces flying.

Matt nudged Claws off his lap and stood up. “Those pieces are sharp. Don’t cut yourself, Frankie.”

“I’m fine.” Frankie kept her head down and scooped up the pieces while Matt watched her steadily.

“Is this about the rent?” Matt asked. “Because you don’t have to worry about that. You can pay me when you’re back on your feet.”

A flush spread across Frankie’s cheeks, clashing with her vivid hair. “I can pay my rent.” Her voice was fierce. “I don’t ever need a man to pay my rent.”

Paige knew she was thinking of her mother and presumably so did Matt because he paused for a moment, and then spoke carefully.

“I’m not offering to pay your rent. I just wanted you to know that there is no hurry for payment. Anytime is fine. Wait until you have a job again. It’s a loan.”

“I don’t need a loan. I can pay my way.” Frankie scooped the shards of pottery into a bag, and then must have realized how ungrateful she sounded because her shoulders sagged. “Look—”

“You don’t have to explain.” Matt spoke quietly. “I understand.”

Paige saw the brief flash of misery on Frankie’s face and realized that it was precisely because her brother understood that Frankie was so mortified.

Everyone who had known Frankie growing up knew the lurid details about her mother.

Every new episode had killed Frankie and it still did, even though she was no longer living on a small island where her mother’s bedroom activities were a source of local legend.

Frankie breathed deeply. “That was rude of me and I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize. I said the wrong thing.”

Eva’s eyes filled and she sprang from the chair and hugged Matt. “You didn’t say the wrong thing. I love you, Matt. You’re the best. Why aren’t there more men like you in Manhattan? Ow.” She pulled back as Claws swiped at her leg with a threatening hiss. “The only thing wrong with you is your cat. Why didn’t you adopt a friendly, loving cat?”

“Because that cat didn’t need a home. This one did.” Matt lifted Claws away from Eva. “You need to give her time, that’s all. She’ll do okay once she learns she can trust us.”

Eva looked doubtfully at Claws. “Matt, that cat is never going to trust anyone. She’s psychotic.”

“We all have reasons for being the way we are. If we’re patient, she’ll come around.” He was stroking the cat but Paige noticed that his eyes were on Frankie.

Jake handed Eva a glass of champagne. “That cat has saved Matt a million times from predatory women poised to take advantage and bleed him dry. She’s better than a bodyguard.” He scanned the table of food. “Don’t you have chips, Ev? Something greasy that’s going to clog my arteries?”

Frankie pushed her glasses up her nose, leaving soil on her cheek. “Not all women are predatory.”

Jake’s hand stilled over the bowl. “It was a generic comment. What the hell is wrong with you? I know you’ve had a tough day, but that’s no reason to turn into Cactus Woman.”

Paige was about to say something soothing but her brother gave a brief shake of his head and walked over to Frankie. He dropped to his haunches next to her and said something.

Paige couldn’t hear the words but whatever he said earned a quick smile.

Frankie murmured something back to him and Paige relaxed.

Whatever her brother had said seemed to have calmed things down.

He had a knack for saying the right thing.

Jake reached for a beer. “To playing it safe.”

Paige ground her teeth.

Jake, on the other hand, had a habit of saying what he thought, regardless of time or place.

She felt like emptying her champagne over his sleek, dark head. As usual he seemed to be deliberately trying to goad her.

“Your bedside manner needs serious attention, Jake.”

“I’ve never had complaints.” Dark lashes shielded the glitter of amusement in his eyes and the spasm of sexual awareness shocked her. She should have been used to it by now. Kissing Jake had featured large in her fantasies for almost a decade, even when she’d tried hard to switch the fantasy to something less dangerous. She imagined him using all that raw power and muscle to pull in a woman, all that charisma and hot sexuality to make sure she never wanted to step away. Although she’d long since stopped hoping anything would happen between them, she’d discovered that sexual attraction wasn’t something you could easily switch off. There were days when she wished he would kiss her just so that she could stop fantasizing. Everyone knew reality never came close to fantasy and she would have given a lot to have her illusions crushed.

The breeze lifted her hair and sounds of laughter drifted up from the streets below as people walked home after a night out. Lights glowed in windows, dogs barked, a siren shrieked and a car door slammed. Life went on.

She thought wistfully back to this time yesterday. She’d been planning what to wear for her interview, excited about her promotion, planning the future.

And now she was unemployed.

What was she supposed to do tomorrow? Get up, get out of bed and do what? Spend the day job hunting? Even if she found another job, it wouldn’t be with her friends.

She tried to imagine how it would feel to not be working with Frankie and Eva.

“How much money would I need to set up a business?” She blurted out the words, her heart racing.

“You’d have some up-front costs,” Jake said. “Mostly legal. I’m willing to pay for that. I believe in you.”

Matt rose to his feet and sent Jake an incinerating glare. “Get him a bowl of chips, Ev. Enough to fill his mouth so he can’t speak.”

“I want him to speak.” Paige knew that if she wanted a straight answer, she had to talk to Jake. He didn’t protect her the way her brother did. “You really think I could do it?”

“If you adjust your attitude.” Jake took a swig of beer. “You’re too risk-averse. You cling to control like a climber on a rock face. You want guarantees and you won’t find them running your own business. You want safe, and there is no safe. There’s risk, a ton of hard work, sometimes for nothing. Businesses fold every day. It’s not for the fainthearted.”

If she’d been Claws, she would have scratched him. “I’m not afraid to take a risk if it’s for something I want badly enough. And there’s nothing wrong with my heart. It’s as strong as yours.” And it was beating hard in her chest, as if to back her up.

Why not?

Why not?

An idea was taking shape in her head and with it came an unexpected rush of excitement. Some of the heaviness that had been there since the meeting with Cynthia lifted. “We should do it. Frankie? Eva?”

Frankie glanced up from her plants. “Do what?”

“Start our own business.”

“Are you serious? I assumed you and Jake were having one of your fights.”

“I’m serious. We have skills. We’re good at what we do.”

“Cynthia didn’t think so.” Eva slumped on the cushion and Paige felt a rush of anger.

“Don’t let her do that to you. We’re not going to let her knock our confidence.”

“All right, but I don’t think I can run a business, Paige.” Eva looked doubtful. “I can ice the perfect wedding cake and make good pastry. I’m a decent writer and people seem to like my blog, but strategy doesn’t interest me and spreadsheets make my head ache.”

“I’ll do that part. Your natural ability to create delicious food is your special gift. You invent new dishes every day of the week and you’re wonderful with people. Customers love you. No one soothes a tense situation better than you do.”

Frankie rocked back on her heels and wiped the soil from her fingers. “None of us has any experience running a business.”

“I’ll learn that part.” Her mind was racing. She had contacts; she was capable. She did her job well for other people; why not for herself? “We’d have control. We’d get to decide who we work for. It would be fun.”

“It would be risky.” Matt’s expression was serious. “One of the main reasons companies fail is because they don’t think about their customer or their competition. The city is full of event planners.”

“So we need to be different. Better. Clients like the personal touch. If you’re super wealthy, you expect good service. Star Events operated within rigid lines, but what if we don’t? What if, as well as organizing your event, we’re happy to handle all the little things that are clogging up your day? Cynthia moaned, but customers loved the fact that we always went that extra mile. We don’t only organize their event, we’re there for everything, from dry-cleaning your silk tie to cat sitting.”

Eva eyed Claws. “I don’t have a talent for cat sitting. And how are we going to offer all that when there are only three of us?”

“We can outsource. Have preferred vendors. We’re not trying to fund a huge bloated company with staff like Cynthia, who take a salary but do nothing to bring in business. We’ll keep it lean. We’re not the only ones who lost our jobs. There are plenty of people who would be happy to freelance for us.” Her mind was racing, leaping over hurdles and looking for possibilities and solutions. “Look at this another way. What do we have? What are we good at? We’re organized and we have great contacts. We know every hot venue in town—clubs, bars, restaurants. We know how to get the best tickets for the best events. We know how to manage things when everything goes wrong. We’re brilliant at multitasking and we’re friendly and hardworking. What is the one thing most people in Manhattan don’t have?”

Eva reached for her sweater. “You mean apart from a sex life?”

Jake smiled. “Speak for yourself.”

Paige ignored him. “Time. They don’t have time. People have too much to do and no time to do it in and the stress of it stops them from enjoying every part of their life. Everyone wants forty-eight-hour days because twenty-four isn’t enough. That’s what we’re going to fix. We are going to be the people who give them hours back in their day.”

Frankie adjusted her glasses. “I can’t see corporations employing us. We’d be too small.”

“Small can be good. Small makes us nimble and responsive. Doesn’t mean we can’t be as professional as a large company with offices in Los Angeles.”

“It might work.” Frankie stood up, for once forgetting the plants. “How would we build a client base? Advertising would cost a fortune.”

“We do what we already do. We go out and find them. Pitch. And then we do a brilliant job with their event, we turn their stressed, manic lives into peaceful order and they tell their friends.”

“And if we’re successful, our peaceful lives will become stressed and manic.” Eva’s blue eyes shone, but this time with excitement rather than tears. “I’m in.”

“Me, too.” Frankie nodded. “I’m sick of working for a bullying boss and having no control. Where do we start? How long until we can bring in some money?”

The question made it all scarily real and doused the excitement like water on flame.

Paige swallowed.

Her insides quailed. The theory was one thing, the practice was another.

What if she couldn’t make it work? This time she’d be the one letting her friends down, not Star Events.

“If you’re really going to do this,” Matt said, “you could start by asking for advice.”

Paige shook her head. “Thanks, but I want to do this on my own.”

Jake locked his hands behind his head, watching her from under his lashes. “Paige the pigheaded. Do you want to know how many start-ups I’ve seen fail in the last few years?”

“No. And you were the one who told me to start my own business.”

“I didn’t tell you to go off like a child in a toy shop with no sense of direction. You need to think about what you’re doing. Ask for advice.”

“I have a clear sense of direction.” How could you find someone attractive and want to hit them at the same time? “I’ll ask the advice of people who understand the business, like Eva and Frankie.”

“Yeah, that’s smart. Ask your friends. Because they’re sure to tell you the truth.” Jake drained his beer. “When you’re thinking of setting up a business you don’t want the opinion of your friends. You want people who are going to tell you what’s wrong with your idea so you can fix it. It’s going to be a tough grind and you need to be prepared for that. You need to be challenged. If you can defend yourself, then maybe, maybe, your ideas are robust.”

Paige felt a rush of frustration. Needing space, she turned and walked to the edge of the terrace, away from them all.

Damn, damn.

Why did she always get emotional around him?

And what if she was being too ambitious thinking that she could start up her own business?

What if she failed?

She heard soft prowling footsteps behind her.

“I’m sorry.” Jake’s voice was low. He was standing close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek.

Desire shot through her. For a moment she thought he was going to put his arms around her and she closed her eyes, holding her breath.

He was not going to touch her.

He never touched her. Not anymore.

It was agonizing to find someone so attractive physically when they didn’t feel the same way.

It was rare that they found themselves alone together. Not that they were exactly alone, but for some reason it felt that way as they stood, sheltered by the soft sway of the trees, while conversation drifted on the breeze from the far side of the terrace.

He didn’t touch her. Instead, he stood next to her, staring across the water toward Manhattan.

Paige let her breath out slowly. “Tell me what’s wrong with my idea. I want to know.”

He turned his head to look at her, and the atmosphere on the terrace suddenly felt tight and intimate.

“You need to think hard about your market, your customers and exactly what it is you’re offering. Matt’s right. Your customers are the most important thing. More important than how you structure the company, than what your website looks like, whether you have a video of flying pigs on your splash page. Ask yourself what your customers need, and then ask yourself why they’re going to come to you. If you make your offering too broad, people won’t automatically think of you. Too niche and you could find yourself without business. What value are you going to place on your service?”

She found it hard to focus on business while the velvet stroke of his voice was teasing her senses.

“We can’t afford to narrow what we offer. We’ll take whatever business we can get.”

“Don’t undersell yourself. You’ll be brilliant, Paige.” His words drove the breath from her lungs.

“From insults to compliments. You’re giving me whiplash.”

“It’s the truth. You’re a born organizer. Your attention to detail borders on the aggravating.”

She almost smiled. “Maybe you should be quiet now, before you spoil it.”

His soft laugh broke the simmering silence. “Paige, you have a checklist for movie night so that we don’t forget anything, even though forgetting something simply means walking down a couple of flights of stairs. You remember everyone’s birthdays and have a record of every gift you’ve sent every person you know since time immemorial. You probably have notes on what you cooked someone for dinner two years ago.”

“I do.” She frowned. “What’s wrong with that? Some people have food allergies. I like to make a note.”

“That’s my point. You take notes on everything. You miss nothing. You will be so good at this job your competition will give up and cry. I almost feel sorry for them.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy watching you kick their butts.”

“There’s a lot that could go wrong.”

“And plenty that can go right.”

Because her knees were unsteady, she gripped the railing in front of her, fixing her gaze on the shimmering lights of Manhattan. From here it looked glamorous and tempting, a world of opportunity. “I don’t know if I’m brave enough to do it.” The confession spilled from her and she felt Jake’s fingers slide over hers, the pressure of his hand sure and strong.