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“Yeah, you’re expected to be a cross between a cheerleader and a groupie. The mood should be happy and excited and I just want to warn them to run while they still can. I’m hoping that one day Urban Genie will be successful enough to turn them down and focus on corporate events. I think I’m allergic to weddings in the same way some people are allergic to bee stings.” While the eggs were cooking, she prepared a simple green salad, threw together a dressing of olive oil and balsamic vinegar and put the bowl on the table.
“So the only way to get you to say ‘I do’ would be to give you a shot of adrenaline?” There was humor in his voice and she smiled too as she eased around the edges of the omelet and folded it in half. The surface was golden brown and perfect.
“I’d need more than adrenaline. I’m as likely to say those words as I am to walk naked through Times Square.” She picked up her glass and took a sip of wine. “Look at us. It’s Saturday night and you’re spending it in my kitchen with a deranged cat. And me. You need to get a life, Matt.”
He put his beer down. “I like my life.”
“You’re a man in your prime. You should be on a hot date with four Swedish blondes.”
“That sounds like hard work. It also sounds like something Eva would say, not you.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes I try and sound normal.” She took another sip of wine. “When you’re on an alien planet it’s important to try and blend in.”
“You’re not on an alien planet, Frankie. And you don’t have to be anyone you’re not. Certainly not with me.”
“That’s because you already know all my secrets, including the fact that the T-shirt I’m wearing is five years old.” She slid a perfect omelet onto a plate, added a chunk of crusty bread and handed it to him. “Ignore me. I’m in a weird mood tonight. This is what the word bridal does to me. All that talk of fairy-tale romance unsettles me.” And being with Matt unsettled her, too. Being this close to him made excitement shimmer across her skin and desire burn low in her body. She recognized sexual attraction. She just didn’t know what to do with the feeling.
Her phone rang and she checked the caller ID and ignored it.
Perfect timing. If ever she needed to be snapped out of a sexual fantasy it was now.
Matt glanced at her. “Don’t you want to get that?”
“No.”
Curiosity gave way to understanding. “Your mother?”
“Yes. She’s trying to bond with me, but that involves telling me about her latest twentysomething boyfriend, and tonight I’m not in the mood. It’s Saturday night. No one invades my space.”
“I’m invading your space.”
Her heart gave a little kick. “You own the space.”
“So we’re back to owner’s privileges.” Matt gave her a long look and then picked up his fork and started to eat. “Does your mother know you lost your job and set up Urban Genie?”
“No.”
“You’re worried she’d fuss over you? Paige will tell you our mom always says you never stop worrying about your kids.”
Frankie felt a pang. “My mother wouldn’t fuss. She’s not really interested in what I do. As you know, we’re not close.”
“Do you wish you were?”
“No.” She disposed of the eggshells. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s been years since we had a proper conversation about anything. I’m not sure we ever did. Most of our verbal exchanges were on the lines of ‘clean your teeth’ and ‘don’t be late for school.’ I don’t remember ever really talking.” Maybe that was why she wasn’t good at it. Or maybe it was just her nature to be private. “Let’s talk about something else.”
He glanced across the room. “Most people keep pots and pans in their kitchens. You have shelves of books.”
“I can’t fit them all in the living room. And anyway, I love books. Some people like looking at paintings. I like looking at books. What are you reading at the moment?” She relaxed. Books were something they often talked about. It was a comfortable, safe subject.
“Haven’t read anything for a month. Business has exploded. The moment my body hits the bed I’m unconscious.” He took another mouthful of food and glanced at the bookshelf again. “What’s the brown one on the end? I can’t see the title.” His tone was casual and she followed the direction of his gaze.
“It’s Stephen King. The Stand. Why? Do you want to borrow it?”
“No, I have that one, but thanks.” He gave her a thoughtful look and then returned his attention to his food.
Frankie had the feeling she was missing something.
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything is great. This omelet is fantastic. I didn’t realize you were such a great cook.”
“Food always tastes better when you’re not the one who cooked it.”
“You’re not eating?”
“I ate some cheese earlier while I started a new book. Reading food.”
He stuck his fork into the salad. “Reading food?”
“Food you can eat while you’re reading. Food that doesn’t require any attention. Can be eaten one-handed while I turn the pages with the other. You don’t know about reading food?”
“It’s a gap in my education.” There was a tiny smile on his lips. “So what else qualifies as reading food?”
She sat down and puffed her hair out of her eyes. “Popcorn, obviously. Chocolate, providing you break it into chunks before you settle down. Chips. Grilled cheese sandwiches if you cut them into bite-size pieces.”
He reached across the table and picked up the book she’d been reading. “The latest Lucas Blade? I thought this wasn’t out for another month.”
“Early copy. Turns out Eva’s favorite client is his grandmother, and I get to be the one who benefits from that friendship.”
“Well, now I understand why you need to eat while you read. I’ll borrow it when you’re done with it. I love his work. So that’s what you were doing when I knocked? You were sitting here reading?”
Frankie nodded. “I’m halfway through chapter three. Gripping.”
He put the book back on the table carefully. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, although I haven’t guessed the twist yet if that’s what you want to know.”
“It isn’t.” He’d finished his food and put his fork down. There was a pause. Her heart started to thud a little harder.
He looked serious, but surely if something was wrong he would have said so right away.
“What do you want to ask me?”
He pushed his plate away and lifted his gaze to hers. “How long have you worn glasses you don’t need?”
Oh, God.
Had he really just said what she’d thought he’d said?
What was she going to say? She looked at him stupidly. “Excuse me?”
“When I knocked on the door you were reading, but I saw your glasses on the stand in the entryway so you can’t be long-sighted. Of course you could be short-sighted, but you read the title of that book perfectly just now. Which leads me to believe you’re neither.” His tone was neutral. “You don’t need them, do you?”
Flustered, she lifted her hand to her face.
Her glasses. She’d forgotten to wear her glasses.
She remembered taking them off when she’d walked through the door. She hadn’t put them back on because she hadn’t been expecting company.
“I need them.” What should she do? She could squint and trip over a chair, but it was a bit late for that. “It’s complicated.” Lame, Frankie. Lame.
“I’m sure it is.” Matt’s tone was gentle. “But the reason you need them has nothing to do with your vision, does it?”
He knew.
Horror washed through her. It was like arriving at work and discovering you’d forgotten to dress. “If you’ve finished, you should probably go.” She snatched the plate from him, her face burning. “Claws is scratching my sofa. And I need to get back to my book.”
The book she could read perfectly well without glasses.
Matt didn’t budge. “We’re not going to talk about this?”
“Nothing to talk about. Good night, Matt.” She was so desperate for him to leave she stumbled over the kitchen chair on her way to the door. The irony almost made her laugh. If she’d done that sooner, he might never have guessed. “Have a great evening.”
He stood up slowly and followed her.
“Frankie—” The gentleness of his tone somehow intensified the humiliation.
“Good night.” She pushed him through the door and Claws shot out with him, clearly unimpressed by the level of hospitality.
Frankie slammed the door, narrowly missing his hand.
Then she leaned against it and closed her eyes.
Crap, crap and crap.
Her cover was totally and utterly blown.
Matt let himself into his apartment and dropped his keys on the table.
He’d known Frankie since she was six years old and for the past ten years, since she’d moved to New York, she’d been a constant feature in his life. He didn’t just know her, he knew her. He knew she burned easily and always wore sunscreen. He knew she hated tomato, romance movies, the subway. He knew she had a black belt in karate. And it wasn’t just those basic facts that he knew. He knew deeper things. Important things. Like the fact that her relationship with her mother was difficult and that her parents’ divorce had affected her deeply.
He knew all those things, but until tonight he hadn’t known she didn’t need the glasses she always wore.
He ran a hand over his face. How could he have missed that?
She’d worn glasses for as long as he could remember, and he’d never once questioned her need for them. He’d noticed that she fiddled with them when a situation made her nervous or uncomfortable, as if they offered her some reassurance, but he’d never understood why her glasses would be reassuring. They were possibly the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. The frames were thick and heavy and an unappealing shade of brown, as if they’d been trodden into a patch of damp earth. They were unattractive, and knowing her the way he did, Matt was sure that was the reason she’d chosen them. They were armor. Razor wire, to repel unwanted intruders.
Relationships, he thought. Was anything in life as complicated?
Claws rubbed against his legs and he bent to stroke her.
Who was going to break the bad news to her that she was cute as hell with or without ugly glasses? The fact that she seemed unaware of it just increased the sexiness level. There was so much she didn’t know about herself.
The cat sprang onto the sofa, digging in her claws, and he gave a humorless laugh.
“Yeah, she’d probably do the same thing if I told her that. Dig her claws in me. Then she’d hide under the kitchen table. You and she have a lot in common.”
Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he took the steps up to the roof terrace.
The setting sun sent shards of red and orange over the Manhattan skyline.
New York was a city of neighborhoods, of buildings that rose tall and proud into the sky, of blaring cab horns, hissing steam and the never-ending noise of construction. It was a city of iconic landmarks: the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, the Flatiron Building. The ultimate dream destination for many, and he understood that. Tourists arrived and immediately felt as if they were extras on a movie set. You saw them pointing it out. That’s where they filmed Spiderman, or that’s where Harry met Sally.
And it was a city of individuals. The wealthy, the poor, the lonely, the ambitious. Singles, families, locals and tourists—they all crowded together on this patch of land that nudged the water.
“You going to stand there admiring your kingdom all night or are you going to share a beer with me?”
Matt turned sharply and saw Jake sprawled on one of the loungers, a beer in his hand. He swore under his breath. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Jake grinned. “Big tough guy like you? Never.”
“What are you doing here?” Normally he would have been happy to see his friend, but right now he wanted space to process this new information on Frankie. What else didn’t he know about her? What else was she hiding?
Jake raised the bottle toward Matt. “I’m drinking your beer and enjoying your view. Best view in Brooklyn.”
“You have your own roof terrace. And the reason I know that is because I built it for you. You also have your own beer.”
“I know, but my roof terrace and my beer don’t come with your scintillating company.”
“Last time I looked it was my sister’s scintillating company that was taking most of your time and attention.” He saw Jake open his mouth to speak and cut him off quickly. “Do not even think about telling me what it is about my sister that takes most of your time and attention. I don’t want details. I’m still getting used to the idea that the two of you are together.”
“You’re going to be my brother-in-law. It’s official. There’s going to be a ceremony. In a way you’re marrying me.”
Matt almost cracked a smile. “I’m going to file for divorce.”
“On what grounds?”
“Unreasonable behavior. Breaking and entering and—” he eyed the beer “—theft and misappropriation of property.”
“I always said you would have made a fine lawyer.” Jake leaned back and closed his eyes. “Bad day?”
There had been nothing wrong with his day. It was his evening that hadn’t gone according to plan.
Matt sprawled on the lounger next to his friend. “Have you ever thought you knew someone and discovered you didn’t?”
“Every damn day. What’s her name?”
“What makes you think it’s a woman?”
