Читать книгу Want Me - Jo Leigh - Страница 8

NATE WATCHED HER EXPRESSION change from surprise to greater surprise. He sipped his beer to hide his grin.

“Oh?” she said, sounding as disinterested as a person who absolutely wasn’t.

He nodded. “I was staying at Hotel Giraffe, but your mom had a fit, so now I’m moving in tomorrow.”

“Danny’s, Myles’s or Tim’s?”

He huffed out a laugh. “You think I’d risk my life in anyone’s but Myles’s room? Your brothers are savages.”

She’d gotten herself under control, which was a pity. At least, her exterior was collected as could be, but he wondered. That dance … Not the first two, because he was under no illusions that he looked anything but preposterous attempting to move to music. Luckily for him, he’d quit worrying. He had other good qualities. Besides, if someone didn’t like it they could piss right off.

He was actually thinking of the slow dance, the one where he’d felt her breasts against his chest. The one he’d had to cut short in case she felt his reaction.

There it was. The big deal, the shock, the bewildering new reality. Shannon had grown up to be an absolute stunner. She’d been a gorgeous kid, so why it was such a surprise wasn’t clear, but he doubted anyone could have guessed she’d turn into the goddamn Venus on the Half Shell.

It started with her hair. Thick and past her shoulders, it was a lush, fiery red-orange wonder. Especially when she used both hands to sweep it off her neck before letting it fall.

“There’s plenty of room at the house these days,” she said. “How long will you be in residence?”

They’d been talking. He’d forgotten. “I’m supposed to be back in Bali by the middle of May. But I’m hoping to wrap things up here sooner than that.”

“Oh. I thought you were looking to buy a town house.”

“I am,” he said, keeping his gaze straight ahead so he didn’t get derailed again. “Mostly because I need the expenses to offset my capital gains. I’ll sublet the place, but first I have to find something, then furnish it.” He exhaled, happy that he’d found a topic so boring that his still-too-interested cock would settle in for the night.

Shit, the feeling of her in his arms revisited, and so much for boring capital-gains talk. She’d been a straight-as-a-board kid when he’d moved to his place at New York University, thirteen and a complete drama queen. Every time she spoke it was life or death, where she was the center of the universe, and none of her brothers had much patience. Especially when she kept popping up when he and Danny had convinced girls that they wouldn’t be caught sneaking into the house after ten because Mom and Dad Fitzgerald’s bedroom was on the third floor and they slept like the dead.

“In Gramercy?”

He had no idea why she’d asked … Oh. “I don’t care where it is. Or what. Duplex, town house, row house, apartment. It needs to be in Manhattan, needs to be managed so that I can be gone most of the year without worrying, and it would be nice if it brought in some decent money. If you have any ideas or know of anything, that would be great.”

“I’ll ask around.”

“Thanks.” He picked up his beer again, she lifted her wine, and then she turned to look out at the dance floor and his shoulders sagged in relief.

This was Shannon. Little Shannon. He’d known her since he was eight, and she’d been a pest for the next ten years. But now she had curves and legs that went all the way down to the ground, perfect white teeth and deep green eyes. For a natural redhead, she had fewer freckles than he would have imagined, and oh, God, she was a natural redhead, which meant that all her hair was—

“I might know of something in the Flatiron District, come to think of it,” she said, and she was looking at him again.

Great. He refused to even acknowledge the jerk in his crotch because he was thirty-two and Shannon had practically been his sister back in the day. “Hey,” he said, leaning over the table, focusing, “you were always redecorating your room.”

Shannon laughed. “I was a teenage girl. That wasn’t decorating, that was illustrating. I was constantly falling madly in love with movie stars or deeply wounded singers.”

“Your bedroom always looked nice. Smelled great, too.”

“Yes, because I wasn’t a savage who left my unwashed gym clothes to stew on the floor for months.”

“Oh.” Nate leaned back. “That actually makes sense. We were pigs, weren’t we?”

She gave him an eye-roll. “I gather you want some assistance with the furnishings?”

He shook his head. “More than that. I need someone to help me find the right place, then furnish it. A woman’s touch would be welcome. I’ve been building basic housing for a long time, living in tents or huts. I don’t know the market at all. But I can hire someone if you’re too swamped.”

“I imagine I can take some time out of my busy schedule for an old friend.”

He slapped back the rest of his beer and met her gaze again. He was going to be living in the same house as this newly sexualized Shannon, in the room next to hers. He might as well get this out so he could get on with things. “You’re still a beauty,” he said, his low voice carrying over a sad Irish love song. “More now than when you were in all those crazy pageants. You must have every man with a heartbeat after you, Princess. Every one.”

The blush that blossomed on her cheeks spread like a light show. He used to make her blush as a parlor trick, something that would make her furious and hopefully storm off to her room. Now he found the contrast of her pale skin and the fire of her emotions far too fascinating.

“You’re going to cause trouble, aren’t you, Nate Brenner?” she asked, just loudly enough for him to hear.

“As much as humanly possible,” he admitted. Then he smiled, because what the hell else was there to do about it? “Will you excuse me?”

“Sure,” she said, her look suspicious.

Close to the bar he decided beer wasn’t going to cut it. He ordered a boilermaker and drank it down right there on the spot.

“IS HE?”

Shannon almost dropped her glass at the whisper behind her. It was Ariel, who didn’t seem at all sorry for sneaking up on her like a thief. “Is who what?”

“Single.” Ariel had to lift her head to see Nate standing with Danny in the midst of the crowd. Midnight, and hardly anyone had left the now stifling room.

“Yes, he is,” Shannon said. “But he’s not here for long.”

“He doesn’t have to be. All I’d need is one night.”

Shannon frowned at her cousin. She’d been sweating—everyone was—and dark tendrils of hair were stuck to her face and neck. The way Ariel gasped for breath was more a result of the dancing she’d been up to than her interest in Nate … Still, Shannon could be mistaken about that. Ariel looked ready to pounce.

“If I do put him on a card, you’ll have to be quick. It’s first come, first served.”

“Did you see how I caught the bouquet?” she asked. “I hate being single. I honestly do. It’s a pity your guy isn’t going to be around for the long haul. I like his laugh. That’s huge for me. A sense of humor. You can get through most anything if you can find something to laugh about.”

“You met him?”

Ariel sighed. “I did. He was great. But he was very involved in a conversation with Danny. Evidently I wasn’t enough to distract him.”

“Let me guess,” Shannon said. “Notre Dame?”

Ariel rolled her eyes. “I swear, I could have stripped right down to nothing and neither of them would have blinked.”

“I doubt that. But I don’t think they’ve seen each other since college. All those games to catch up on.”

“At least he was funny.”

“Humor’s on the top of my list, too,” Shannon said. “Along with shared values. And kindness.”

“Don’t forget great in the sack,” Ariel said, still craning her neck to gaze at Nate.

“I can’t help you with that one.”

“You’ve never …?”

“No. Nothing remotely like that.”

“Pity.”

“Not really. He left when I was thirteen.”

“God, it’s broiling in here. Can’t they open some windows?”

“I don’t think it’ll help. There’s a hundred and fifty drunk people dancing like fools.”

Ariel grinned at her. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? I want my wedding to be just like this. Friendly, open. Plenty of booze and good food. If I ever have a wedding.”

“That’s what the trading cards are for.” Shannon thought about how Rebecca Thorpe and Jake Donnelly were living together now. Part-time in Brooklyn and part-time in the Upper East Side. Shannon had the feeling they’d end up married. They were wildly in love.

“You, too, huh?”

Shannon must have let her envy show. “Yes, I would very much like to be married. So far my dates have been fun. But no magic.”

Ariel shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if magic is too much to hope for.”

“Of course it’s not,” Shannon said. “A little bit of magic is in every good love story. I’m sure of it.”

THE BROWNSTONE WAS A RELIC of a New York long gone. All three stories in the row house belonged to the Fitzgerald family, and since the third grade it had been more a home to Nate than his own.

At noon, the taxi pulled away, leaving him with his suitcase and duffel bag. The traditional wedding hangover lingered, but even so, approaching the red door on 3rd Avenue in Gramercy Park made him feel like a kid. The last time he’d been there had been pre-NYU. Before Danny went to study graphic design in Boston.

He banged on the knocker, the one Mr. Fitz had replaced after the Baseball Incident. Nate liked this one better. It was in the shape of a shillelagh, and it was loud.

Mrs. Fitz opened the door and, yeah, he was ten again, or fourteen, or eight, and all the years in between and around because she looked the same to him. Her hair was mostly gray now, but for a pale woman who seemingly had more freckles than skin, he saw remarkably few signs of the passing years. Then there was her frown. She wore it most of the time, and it put some people off. But he knew better. That was Danny’s mom, worrying about her brood. She’d always said life in her house was most frightening when it got quiet, and she’d been right.

“Get a move on, Nathan—” and there was a hint of a brogue even though she’d been born and raised in New York “—you’re letting in all the flies.”

He dragged his rolled case and duffel bag across the threshold into the entry hall, then put the duffel on the big wooden bench, almost expecting his snow boots to be underneath on the boot mat. “It’s good to be home,” he said.

When he turned to smile at Mrs. Fitz, she was smiling right back, a rare and wonderful sight. “As long as we live here, boyo.”

He wanted to throw his arms around her neck, it was so terrific to see her again. She’d been a major part of his life, and he didn’t think of her often enough. But as big as their hearts were, the Fitzgeralds weren’t hug-gers. Except for Shannon apparently.

“I imagine you’ll be wanting lunch. You should eat first because Myles and Alice are still in his old room. Everyone slept in after the party, the drunken hooligans.”

“Who you calling a hooligan?”

It was Danny, coming down the stairs, looking like a madman with his hair sticking out all over the place, unshaven, wearing some god-awful zombie T-shirt.

“Ah, I see why,” Danny said. “We’re in for it now.”

“You two can set the dining room table.” Mrs. Fitz headed toward her kitchen, but she made sure they heard. “My God, there’s nine of us. You’ll need to bring in chairs.”

“So the whole crew stayed over?”

“To be fair,” Danny said, scratching his belly as if he was alone in his bedroom, “Shannon and Brady live here. But Tim and me and the married ones, we had to stay. Nobody was taking a train at three in the morning.”

Nate slipped off his coat and hung it on one of the wooden pegs that lined the entry hall. “Whatever happened to Gayle?”

Danny’s brow furrowed. “Boston Gayle?”

Nate nodded.

“She kicked me out while I was in my boxers. Thought I’d slept with her best friend. Truth was, I had, but we didn’t do anything but sleep. Completely innocent.

Gayle didn’t care, though.” He started walking to the kitchen, now scratching his jean-covered butt. “She called me an evil bastard who had no class.”

“Go figure.” Nate trailed after his buddy, and everywhere his gaze rested he found another piece of his past. He’d fallen against the edge of the massive wooden dining room table, running when there’d been a very strict rule against it. In his defense, Myles had been chasing him, and Myles was six years older and mean.

Nate walked through the kitchen to the pantry door and swung it open. Ignoring the massive amounts of stores Mrs. Fitz kept on hand, enough to feed an army, instead he checked out the marks on the height chart etched on the wall. There was his name, alongside Tim and Myles and Brady and Danny. No Shannon, though. He hadn’t remembered that. Still didn’t know why.

“Please tell me there’s coffee made.”

Nate knew it was Shannon behind him, but her voice was as grown-up as the woman herself. Despite his complete and total awareness that she was no longer a child, his memories were in flux. He peeked out from the pantry to see her in her belted robe, her hair hanging over her right shoulder.

It shouldn’t have been real, that color, but it was. They’d gone to Coney Island or out to the seashore, and no one ever got lost because all they had to do was look for that firecracker hair in the crowd.

Of course, she’d always gotten sunburned, even after Mrs. Fitz slathered her with goop. Nothing could protect that white skin, not umbrellas, not T-shirts, not the awful zinc on her nose.

“Oh.” Her hand went to her hair, then just as quickly lowered. “You’re here.”

He came out of the pantry. “Just arrived. Currently on table-setting duty.”

“My mother’s a slave driver.”

“I heard that, missy. You’d best get your coffee and get dressed. We have a houseful to feed.”

Shannon turned to her mom standing by the stove. “There isn’t one person in this house who isn’t capable of fixing their own lunch. Not one.” She had her hands on her hips, and Nate was taken aback again that she’d developed so many curves. It didn’t seem possible. But then, he’d done some changing, too.

“You know your brothers. Left to their own devices, they’ll eat nothing but garbage.”

“Then that’s what they deserve. Garbage.” She turned back to Nate. “Don’t bother asking who buys the candy and chips and cookies and cake and every horrible, calorie- and fat-laden food in New York.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

“Then you learned something hanging around here all those years.”

“That your mother is generous and wants her sons to be happy? Yeah, I got that one.”

Mrs. Fitz nodded and kept on stirring what smelled like beef stew. Shannon smiled at him, patted his arm and went to the big coffee urn that took up half of the completely inadequate counter.

The house was huge, but that was mostly in height. Eight- and nine-foot ceilings, but small rooms. The old oak table where he’d eaten countless bowls of oatmeal dwarfed the breakfast nook. Even the living room barely fit the furniture. How many games he’d watched on those covered couches and chairs. He couldn’t begin to guess. Didn’t matter what season, if there was a game on anywhere on television, the Fitzgerald men were glued to it.

And there’d been snacks followed by huge dinners of meat and potatoes and enough cabbage to choke a horse. “That’s what’s missing,” he said.

Danny, who was now pouring his coffee, Shannon, who was drinking hers, and Mrs. Fitz were all staring.

“Cabbage,” he said, only then realizing he’d made a strategic error. He couldn’t very well announce that he’d missed the stink. “I’m looking forward to some nice corned beef and cabbage soon, Mrs. Fitz. I still think about it all these years later.”

“Well, you’ll have it as you’re staying more than a week,” she answered, turning back to the heavy pot. “And since we had the new exhaust put in, it doesn’t make the house smell to holy hell.”

He grinned and shook his head. This was so much better than a hotel. He should have thought of asking to stay before he’d left Indonesia.

“Danny tells me you work with refugees,” Mrs. Fitz said as she wiped her hands on a tea towel.

“Most of the time, yeah.” Large white plates were put in his hands, and Danny led him to the table carrying a bunch of silverware. “I work for The International Rescue Committee. They set my agenda.”

“Well, don’t stop.” Mrs. Fitz waved impatiently for him to continue. “Tell us what that means.”

“I show up after a natural disaster and help plan and implement redevelopment. We try to recreate villages and towns as much as we can, even if a new design would be better. It’s disorienting having everything you know ripped away in a tsunami or an earthquake. So we study old pictures, drawings and blueprints and figure out how to give people back their equilibrium first, then we add a few extras.”

Shannon wasn’t drinking even though her cup was at her mouth, and she wasn’t even standing near her mom and yet he was watching her. He found Mrs. Fitz again. “It’s challenging work, but very satisfying.”

“I can’t imagine.”

She couldn’t, Nate was sure of it. Not the conditions, not the sweat, the devastation, the utter anguish in every breath.

It was suddenly quiet, a rare thing in the Fitzgerald household, and he wished he hadn’t gone into detail. No, it wasn’t a pretty picture and better that people understood that not everyone enjoyed a comfortable middle-class life, but Shannon’s empathetic expression both pleased him and made him want to kick himself.

Mrs. Fitz finally broke the silence. “Take Nate upstairs, Shannon. He hasn’t seen the changes yet.”

“Now?” Shannon said.

“You’d rather wait and let the food get cold?”

“Come on,” she said to Nate. “I’ll give you a tour.” One hand had a death grip on her coffee mug, the other was in her robe pocket. “You’re going to love what Mom did with Danny’s room.”

“Hey,” Danny said. “He’s supposed to be helping me set the table. And my room’s a mess.”

“You’ve only been here one night,” Mrs. Fitz said. “What have you done?”

“Nothing, Ma. Nothing to worry about.”

Nate had no problem leaving Danny to finish the job by himself, and even less of a problem following Shannon up the stairs. He wanted to check out the pictures that had dotted the old ivy wallpaper, but he ended up watching the sway of her hips instead.