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“When did you decide to go into apartment rentals?” Tessa asked after the waitress deposited their drinks.
Marisa tossed back the hair from her face in one very confident, self-assured flick. “I futzed around after college, trying to design an interesting career around a degree in liberal arts, and then I realized that this city lived and breathed real estate. I didn’t have to teach English if the possibility gave me hives. I could do something more exciting, and financially a lot more rewarding.”
A degree. Bummer. But Tessa wasn’t discouraged yet. “But somebody wouldn’t have to have a degree, would they?”
Marisa shook her head. “Oh, no. We have this one kid in the office who’s fifteen, and even though legally he can’t act as an agent, he’s as good as a walking database of New York City apartments. When he turns eighteen, he’ll be earning a fortune.”
“Wow. Fifteen,” murmured Tessa, shamed by a mere fifteen year old with more business sense than her. “I want to go into real estate, Marisa. I know more about the apartments in this city than anybody, even your fifteen-year-old whiz kid.” There. She’d done it. She’d actually tried to sell herself.
“Really?” asked Marisa, which was better than Get out of my face, bitch, you’re bothering me.
Tessa was mildly encouraged. “Sure, test me.”
And for the next half hour Marisa did. Tessa knocked off the answers one by one, not hesitating, her confidence growing by leaps and bounds.
Eventually Marisa sat back in her chair, arms crossed across her chest. And there was approval on her face. Actual Tessa approval. “You do know your stuff. You think you can handle the exam?”
“With flying colors,” answered Tessa, getting cockier by the millisecond, so close to Hudson Towers she could taste it.
“There’s a weeklong course that you’ll have to take. And then pass the exam. But, yeah, I’d vouch for you.”
And, yes, success. Tessa was in.
“Thank you for all your help.”
Marisa smiled graciously. “Not a problem. You’re helping me out, too,” she reminded Tessa.
“I can’t believe you have problems meeting men.” Because Tessa could see the guys in the club checking out Marisa.
“I’m tired of stuffy Manhattan studs who think every woman must fall down at their feet and perform full-throated fellatio within thirty seconds of the first meet and greet. I’d rather find someone who can respect me. What I like about bartenders is that they seem to respect females. It’s a very therapeutic profession.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that,” Tessa replied.
Marisa leaned her chin on her palm. “Tell me about Gabe.”
Gabe? Did they really have to talk about Gabe? Yes, apparently they did.
Tessa, not quite willing to give up yet, looked around wildly, her eyes resting on the surfer boy who was tending to the bar. “What about this guy? He looks sensitive, almost poetic. I bet he’d love to go out with you.”
“Nah. We dated a few months ago and I broke up with him. I think he was still hung up on his ex-girlfriend or something. You know, it’s very hard for men to break free from repressed memories.”
Oh, man. Marisa was about forty thousand steps ahead of Tessa in the relationship world. “What about the bartenders at Club X? I knew this one bartender there—we played against them in softball last year—and he was fabulous. The most perfect set of abs you’ve ever seen.”
“Mario?”
“Oh.” Tessa’s face fell. “You know him.”
“Yeah,” answered Marisa. “We didn’t go out, though. He’s got a bad track record of date-’n’-dump. I don’t need that.”
“You really know your bartenders, don’t you?” said Tessa, trying to get used to the very real possibility of Marisa dating Gabe. He would be impressed with Marisa. She was confident, successful, nice, well put together and she really liked her bartenders.
“A woman can’t be too careful in this city.”
“No,” Tessa chimed in. Quickly she ordered a shot of tequila, deciding that the vision of Gabe and Marisa was best seen through alcohol-tinted glasses. “A woman can’t.”
The waitress brought two shooters and Tessa clinked her glass with Marisa’s. “To my hookup with Hudson Towers.”
Marisa grinned. “To my hookup with Gabe O’Sullivan.”
The pale liquid should have been hemlock. But as Marisa had said, a woman couldn’t be too careful in this city.
Tessa launched the tequila down her throat. Time to get off the Gabe train while she still could. It’d be too easy to fall back into the same depend-on-a-man trap and get sidetracked from learning to take care of herself. Tessa had dreams, and it was time to start fulfilling them. It was time to either put up or shut up. Either Tessa could take care of herself or else she was going to end up like Stella or with a boyfriend like Chaz who would want to sleep with Tessa’s friends—all at the same time.
No way. Not Tessa. She was going to do this.
No more sex. No more sex at all.
WHEN GABE CAME HOME at two in the morning, Tessa was sacked out on the couch, his old throw cuddled in her arms. The TV was tuned to MSNBC, which gave him a short pause, but he turned it off anyway.
A book was tucked underneath the throw—“New York State Real Estate Requirements”—and he noticed Tessa’s accounting book lying suspiciously next to the trash. There was a new wind blowing, and Tessa wasn’t wasting any time.
Gabe watched her sleep, then shook his head. Damned if he’d leave her on the couch all night, so he gathered her up in his arms, happy when she curled into his chest as though she belonged there.
Carefully he carried her to her bed, wishing she’d picked out something nicer than the futon. If he didn’t think she’d have a heart attack, he’d move her into his room, but Tessa had her whole personal-boundaries issues, and he was going to respect them.
Actually, Gabe wanted to see Tessa make it. For four years he’d watched her press forward, her forehead worried into one long line that even BOTOX couldn’t fix, but she kept going on, roommate after roommate, roadblock after roadblock, never asking for help, never complaining. The little bartender that could—that was her.
Gabe gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, smoothing the lines of worry away.
She was complicated, irrational, skittish…and completely irresistible.
So it’d be complicated. So what? Gabe gave her a long look and then snuck out, closing the door behind him.
Yeah, he’d respect her personal boundaries, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t seduce her personal boundaries right out of the equation.
In fact, it’d be his pleasure.
DANIEL O’SULLIVAN WASN’T a man to complain, but by the time he interviewed the fifth of Sean’s candidates for the new bartender position he decided to forget tradition and raise holy hell.
The blonde was cheerful, flirty, and didn’t know whiskey from vodka. However, she did have breasts that torpedoed out from here to eternity.
Daniel sighed, told the woman to have a nice day, and then went downstairs to the office. This was Prime, not Hooters, and he’d be damned if he would spend a perfectly good Saturday afternoon wasting his time, although, to be fair, it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do than waste his time. Daniel had become very good at wasting time.
Meanwhile, Sean was sitting at the desk playing solitaire on the bar’s computer. Wasting time seemed to be an O’Sullivan family trait.
“What are are you doing?”
Sean turned and quickly clicked over to a spreadsheet. “What do you think? She’s great, isn’t she?”
Daniel could feel the start of a world-class headache.
“Stop coming up with candidates to interview, will you? This isn’t your own personal casting couch.”
“You could make it yours. It’d probably improve your disposition.” Sadly, Sean was completely serious.
“That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it, Sean?”
“It’s not my fault I’m a people person. I bet you didn’t know that lately people have been coming to me for advice, and I’ve discovered a new talent. Giving personal advice. You know, people come to me as a lawyer all the time. Why not come to me as a personal advisor? The best part? I don’t charge by the hour.”
“What idiot comes to you for personal advice?”
“Our younger brother is having sexual difficulties. But you wouldn’t notice, would you?”
“Gabe?” asked Daniel, too shocked to doubt the truth of the matter.
Sean nodded. “He’s having women problems.”
Gabe? Women? Hell, Daniel would be having women problems before Gabe. Gabe was grounded, levelheaded, knew what he wanted and didn’t waste anybody’s time. Gabe didn’t have problems, period. “I don’t believe you.”
“Ask him.”
“For real?” asked Daniel, only because Sean didn’t have the little gleam in his eyes that he got when he was lying.
“Yeah. Pitiful.”
Daniel listened as Sean filled him in on the details, until eventually his curiosity overcame the need to respect his brother’s privacy. “Who is she?”
“Some woman he picked up.”
“Did he say that?” asked Daniel, because Gabe didn’t pick up women. They tried to pick him up, and he always said no. Well, almost always. For the past four years Gabe had barely looked at women at all.
Except for one.
It had become something of an inside joke to Daniel, watching Gabe and Tessa together—and yet not. In some ways, Daniel was living vicariously through his younger brother, remembering what it felt like. That smile when she walked into the room, the easy comfort of knowing that there was always someone waiting for you at home.
There was never any overt sexual tension between Tessa and Gabe—they were too casual for that. It took a detail man to notice the way they got along so easily, knowing what the other one needed before asking, laughing at jokes that no one else got. And then there was the way Gabe protected Tessa, making sure the problem customers were never sitting at her bar. Looking out for her when she was shorthanded and in general making sure that Tessa didn’t hurt.
Daniel understood that. Understood the idea that there was only one woman created exactly, specifically for each man. Life was very precise, as was love.
Fate had decreed that they be together. Maybe it wasn’t fate, maybe it was God. Daniel believed in both.
Eight years ago Daniel had found Michelle, loved her to the exclusion of every other female on the planet—and in a single moment God took her away.
But Gabe still had his moment. He had an entire lifetime to celebrate the exact, specific woman who was created perfectly for him.
Daniel looked up at the betting pool. Saw the neatly written numbers and the names next to them and then laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?” demanded Sean.
“You wouldn’t understand,” replied Daniel. Sean wouldn’t get it. For Sean, sex was the be-all and end-all to women.
And to prove Daniel’s point, Sean pulled out an application from the pile. “Whatever, but let’s talk bartenders for a moment, shall we? This is Leslie, and she’s got this long, long, dark hair, and the woman is ready, willing and completely bedworthy. I think she’d be great. Really.”
ON SATURDAY MORNING Tessa emerged from her bedroom in a Grateful Dead T-shirt that skimmed her knees.
Gabe looked up from the Post, not wanting to imagine what was under the T-shirt, and if he wasn’t going to imagine what was under there, he needed to make sure she couldn’t read it on his face.
“So how was last night?” he asked.
Tessa padded over to the cabinets, and pulled out a box of cereal, then seated herself at the table next to him. “Fun,” she answered, taking a handful of cereal and popping it into her mouth like candy.
“And class?”
She stopped crunching, and then swallowed. “Not fun. I’m quitting.”
And wasn’t that about time? “New plans?”
“Yeah. Real estate. I’ve been talking to a friend. There’s a class starting in the middle of next week. I’m signing up.”
“You have enough money to cover the cost?” Knowing Tessa, she’d live on ramen noodles and cereal before she’d take any help.
“Oh, yeah.” Her hand reached into the box again. “You should meet this girl. Marisa. The one who’s been helping me. She’s completely cool. I think you’d like her.”
“Probably not,” Gabe responded, not wanting to state out loud that his attention was currently occupied but wondering why Tessa couldn’t figure this out on her own. In terms of life issues, maybe she was directionally challenged, but she wasn’t dense. At least not usually.
She folded up the bag of cereal, her mouth fixed in a solemn line. “I’ve been thinking.”
Never good, but Gabe wasn’t worried. Quickly he directed the conversation to the one he wanted. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot to think about. A career change, a roommate search. I’m glad you’re thinking.” There, positive affirmations. The perfect way to get women to do what you wanted them to.
But when she met his eyes, he saw sadness there. Oh, this really wasn’t going to be good.
“I don’t think I can sleep with you anymore,” she said.
Aha, maybe not so bad. So she’d come to see the error of the strange relationship they had? “Actually, I’m glad you think that way. I want to change things around, too.”
“You do?”
Honesty. He’d avoided talking because he knew it would scare her, but since she’d brought it up…“Yeah. I don’t like this, Tessa. I want us to go out. We don’t have to tell anybody. I don’t think that’d be a good idea—it’s too soon, and people will interfere and get in the way. But I want us to be normal. Don’t get me wrong here, I love having sex with you, but it bugs me because I feel like I’m taking advantage of you because of you living here and working at the bar, and I don’t like that. As a rule, I don’t handle guilt well.”
Tessa frowned. “I don’t think you understand.”
Of course he understood. Out of the entire universe of people, Gabe was the only one who was practicing common sense. However, not the time. It couldn’t be possible that Sean was right. Maybe Tessa just wanted him to try and understand her.
“Then help me understand. What do I need to understand?” Gabe asked.
“I can’t sleep with you at all. I can’t go out with you. It’s getting in the way.”
Gabe put down the paper, now giving her his undivided attention. This conversation wasn’t nearly as easy as he’d thought it would be. “Getting in the way? It doesn’t have to get in the way. You need time to study—I can respect that. In fact, I think I’ve been awesome at trying to not get in your way.”
