Читать книгу Little Secrets: Holiday Baby Bombshell - Karen Booth, Karen Booth - Страница 10

Three

Charlotte stood inside the doorway of her brand-new luxury Grand Legacy apartment, mesmerized by muscles.

“Ma’am, where do you want this?” Chad, the head of the moving crew she’d hired, blew his sandy blond surfer-dude bangs from his forehead. His lightly tanned brow glistened with sweat. His biceps bulged through his black T-shirt, which was emblazoned with his company’s name: Hunks with Trucks.

Charlotte felt giddy. This was the most fun she’d had in months. “In the bedroom, Chad. Thank you. And please, call me Charlotte.” Her voice was high and girlie and exploding with flirtation, and she didn’t care in the least how goofy it might make her seem.

“Of course. Charlotte.” He smiled and winked at the same time, a talent Charlotte did not possess. Chad was getting a really good tip at the end of the day. As was Marco, the tall one with the megawatt smile, Phil, the one with the nerdy glasses whose side job was as a runway model, and James, the brooding serious one with the mysterious tattoo snaking up his arm.

“I can’t believe you hired this moving company,” Fran said under her breath when Chad was out of view. “But I’m not sorry you did.”

“I figure we’re entitled to a little fun. Plus, I hate moving.” Charlotte had moved thirteen times, more than once a year since she’d moved out of the house at eighteen. That was when her dad had announced that he couldn’t “deal” with her anymore—too much sneaking out of the house, and doing things that were unbecoming of a Locke, mostly staying out late and dancing. There was always a lot of dancing.

Charlotte’s brothers had done some of the same things, and although their carousing was never on a par with Charlotte’s, they were also never reprimanded for it. She despised the double standard and had been glad to go out on her own. She started her party-planning business the next day, and kept at it during her first two years of college, until she eventually flunked out of school and shifted gears out of boredom, the next phase being interior design. “And they’re doing a great job.” The bonus of hiring Hunks with Trucks was that as a pregnant single woman, these guys might be the only primo male physiques she’d see up close for the foreseeable future.

Fran consulted her watch. “They got here pretty late, though. Aren’t you supposed to be done using the freight elevator at two? It’s nearly two thirty.” She pushed up the sleeves of her pale pink long-sleeved T-shirt. Even helping Charlotte move, Fran was dressed impeccably, like a modern-day Jackie O in slim black capris, flats and pearl earrings.

Charlotte had gone for yoga pants, a camisole and a slouchy T-shirt over that. Her hair had gotten dry shampoo that morning and was pulled back in a ponytail, but she had gone to the trouble of putting on makeup. She was spending part of her day with Hunks with Trucks, after all. She wanted to look good. “I think there are only a few more things for them to bring up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chad said from behind her. “One or two more trips and we’ll be out of your hair. The guys are bringing the bigger pieces of furniture up now.”

Thor whimpered from his kennel, which had been put in the quietest corner of the living room. Charlotte rushed over to him and poked her fingers between the metal bars. Thor licked her mercilessly with his tiny pink tongue. He wagged his tail so violently that the crate shook. “Sorry, buddy. Just a little longer and I can spring you from jail. I can’t let you out when the door’s open. I know you and you’ll run away.” Charlotte turned to Fran. “Let’s start getting the plates and glasses unpacked. I have to have something to eat on.”

The two made their way to the kitchen, which was over-the-top considering Charlotte’s lack of culinary skills, but she loved it nonetheless. Classic white cabinets, white marble countertops, gleaming chrome fixtures and stainless steel appliances, including a six-burner range with a massive hood. She even had a center island, which was practically unheard of in Manhattan, but Sawyer’s architect had done an excellent job with maximizing space. Charlotte also had a huge soaking tub in her bathroom, another NYC anomaly, something she was definitely going to break in before the end of the night. The apartments were a new addition to the hotel, as these top floors had been only guest rooms in the hotel’s earlier incarnation. It had been Sawyer’s idea to bring a residential feel to the building, and Charlotte had to admire her brother’s devotion to both carefully restoring the building and not being afraid to try something new. Plus, it meant a business opportunity had fallen into her lap and she was immensely thankful for that.

“I have my first showing on Monday morning,” Charlotte said, cutting the packing tape on one of the boxes labeled Glassware. “An old party-planning client. She’s newly divorced and got a huge settlement. She wants to move into the city from New Jersey.”

“Sounds promising.” Fran began helping Charlotte unwrap the paper around the glasses. “Remind me. How many units do you have to sell?”

“Seven, now that I’ve bought one. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’ll be a big deal. There’s so much competition out there and you have to find the right buyer.”

“A person with deep pockets.”

“Who also likes the idea of living in a hotel. Sawyer was very specific. He wants resident buyers. He doesn’t want absentee owners, so it’s a little trickier than simply selling them to anyone with money.”

“Well, you could sell it as almost like being in a small building. With only four floors, the residential space is relatively small, and access is closed off from the hotel. That could appeal to buyers.”

“Of course, you’re sharing the elevators with hundreds of hotel guests.”

“You don’t have to remind anyone of that. You have a fantastic restaurant downstairs and there will be two bars to choose from once The Cellar is open. You don’t get that in most apartment buildings.”

“True.”

Chad and his big brown eyes appeared in the kitchen doorway. “It seems we have a problem. Another resident was scheduled to move in this afternoon. He’s demanding his time with the service elevator and wants to talk to you.”

The other resident could only be one person. Michael. To her knowledge, no other units had been sold. “Where is he?”

“He’s down the hall, arguing with my guys.”

Charlotte glanced at Fran. “I’ll be back.” Reminding herself to stay calm, Charlotte marched down the hall, Chad in her wake. She could hear men’s voices before she rounded the corner to the main stretch, where the elevator bank would be visible. Michael’s voice, a sound she had once loved, was the loudest.

When she turned, he was standing there, pointing into the elevator. “You guys have to turn the sofa on its side or it’s never going to come out.” He caught sight of her and simply shook his head. Again with his never-ending dismissiveness. No one was ever as competent as Michael.

She forced herself to smile sweetly. “Problem?”

“These guys have no clue what they’re doing. And they won’t let me touch your stupid sofa.”

Charlotte stepped closer to check out the scene in the elevator. Two of Chad’s guys were trying to turn the sofa, but it seemed pretty well wedged in there. “Chad? Can you take charge here? I’m guessing you’re enough muscle to make this happen so we can relinquish the elevator to Mr. Kelly.”

“You got it, Charlotte.” Chad went to work, instructing his men to make some changes in their plan of attack.

Michael simply folded his arms across his broad chest, pacing the width of the hall. He was dressed in jeans and a Boston Celtics T-shirt. She’d always loved it when he dressed down. It was even sexier than him in a suit, which was already out-of-this-world sexy. Perhaps because it made him more approachable, more like an everyday guy. “Nice moving company,” he said. “Hunks with Trucks? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous. I didn’t think that was possible.” He did seem a little green-eyed about the presence of her studly movers. It left her feeling like things were more even between them. She’d stepped out of his car the other day with the distinct sense that he had the upper hand.

“No, Charlie. I’m not jealous.”

Just like that, his words cut her down to size. She hadn’t heard him call her Charlie in months and it was like a flaming hot poker to the heart. Nobody called her that. It was a nickname he’d bestowed on her, and he rarely used it when they were around anyone else. It’d been reserved for the times when they were alone as a couple. It was such a potent reminder of the reasons she’d been convinced she not only loved him, but that he was also at least capable of falling in love with her. How wrong she’d been. “You could stand to get a sense of humor, Michael. They’ve been great to work with. Totally professional outfit, top to bottom.”

“I think I see the problem,” Chad said.

“Oh, good. He thinks he sees the problem.” Michael threw up his hands. “You might find them professional, but I have a team of six guys downstairs, waiting to use the elevator, the elevator that I had reserved for two o’clock. You’re using up my time.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea you were in such a rush.”

“I have a showing this evening. Here.”

“Tonight?” Damn him. He was always ahead.

“Yes, tonight. You know I don’t waste time.”

Yes, she knew all about that. And she hated the way it made her feel like a lesser person.

“I have work to do,” he continued. “I can’t be standing around here all day waiting for everything to get moved into my apartment.” He pointed down to the other end of the hall.

“You mean that apartment, but on the eighteenth floor, right? I was told you bought the corner unit up top. Please don’t tell me you’re going to be living on the fifteenth floor.”

Charlotte’s pulse began pounding in her ears. I haven’t even moved in, and I’m going to have to start thinking about moving out.

* * *

Michael was going to have to lie about the location of his apartment. There was no way around it. “I always meant to be on fifteen. It’ll be quieter. Those top units are too close to the shared terrace. There will be all sorts of parties up there. I don’t want to deal with that.” The truth was that he’d asked to have his unit moved to Charlotte’s floor. He’d told Sawyer it was because the upper units were primo and would be easier to sell. Hell, he’d told himself the same thing. But the minute he saw Charlotte again today, he suspected that she was the real reason. He was still so drawn to her, but it was an even more pronounced feeling now. Was it because she seemed to despise him so much? Was that what made it so hot? The conversation they were having was a prime example of their incompatibility.

“You’re going to be living down the hall. From me.” Her voice and expression carried what he could only describe as profound disappointment. Was he really that bad?

“I’m sorry if that’s a disdainful idea, but yes.”

“Hmm. Okay.” She twisted her lips into a kissable bundle. Charlotte made annoyance and anger sexy.

“Got it,” one of the movers said, and just like that, the end of the sofa popped out of the elevator.

“Oh, good. Now we can get off Mr. Kelly’s naughty list.” Charlotte touched Chad the mover’s arm with the tips of her slender fingers.

Michael wrestled with the reasons it bothered him so greatly, while trying to ignore Charlotte’s sarcastic comment. He had the elevator reserved and she was using his time. She needed to stop acting as though he was being petty.

The movers in the elevator carried the bright turquoise sofa wrapped in a cocoon of clear plastic out into the hall. “Can we give you a lift?” Chad asked Charlotte.

“I’m sorry?” she asked in a voice that rivaled a cartoon princess.

“A ride. Hop on the sofa and we’ll carry you down the hall.”

She giggled. “Really?”

“Yes, really. We promise we won’t drop you. It’s fun.”

Chad is fun. Good for him.

“Oh. Okay. Great.” Charlotte sat on the couch and the men hoisted her into the air. She grasped the sofa arm as surprise and delight crossed her face. They carried her away, Charlotte waving her fingers at him.

At this rate, Michael just wanted them gone. He couldn’t stand another minute of Charlotte and the muscle squad.

Time to get back to work. He made a quick call down to his movers, a perfectly normal company called Manhattan Moving, and retreated to his apartment to make a few phone calls while waiting for the first load to arrive upstairs. Without his home office ready, he was forced to set up in the kitchen, his laptop on the counter. His chocolate Lab, Abby, had already made herself at home, stretched out in a sunbeam gracing the living room floor. One of his hopes with now being closer to his office was that he’d have more time to take Abby to the park and out for runs. He had a dog walker, but it wasn’t the same. Abby wanted to spend time with him, and he wanted to spend time with Abby. The relationship between dog and master was a simple one, much easier and more symbiotic than most human relationships.

He touched base with three clients about a handful of different properties, including the client who was coming to see the Grand Legacy that evening. The movers were bringing in the first load when he got a call from his younger brother, Chris. They talked or texted almost every day.

“The Islanders won last night,” Chris said.

“Sometimes I wish you had a real job so you wouldn’t call me in the middle of the day.” Michael smiled and leaned back against the kitchen counter. Chris lived in Washington, DC, about twenty minutes from their parents in Maryland. He worked as a lobbyist. As Michael had learned over the last several years, it’s pretty easy to get someone to take a meeting with you when you’re a former Olympian.

“You owe me five bucks.” They were always betting on sports. No longer living in the same house or competing in swimming, it was one way to keep their sibling rivalry going.

“The winning goal was completely bogus. He kicked it into the net.”

“Nope. It went off his skate. They reviewed it. A win’s a win.”

“Fine. I’ll pay you when you come at Christmas.” Michael stepped aside as a mover brought several boxes into the kitchen. He pointed at the center island, indicating that was a good landing spot. “I mean, if you still want to come.”

“What else am I going to do? Go visit Mom and Dad? I don’t think so.”

Michael and Chris had been spending Christmas together, but separate from their parents, for six years now. Things had always been difficult with their father. The man had all the warmth of a dark night in Siberia. There was no parental affection, only an intolerance for anything short of perfection. It was one thing when that revolved around swimming. It had helped both Michael and Chris get to the Olympics. It was quite another when it came to one of their sons being on the wrong end of a broken engagement.

“Okay. I’m just saying that I’m fine. I don’t want you to feel like you have to come to New York every year and console me.”

“Hey. It’s not just you. We both sort of lost our parents that day.”

Michael did his best to ward off the guilt. Chris had sided with him when Dad went off the rails about Michael’s admittedly disastrous engagement party. Mom took Dad’s side, which still confounded them both. Their marriage was anything but blissful.

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw a small dog rocket through his foyer. Charlotte raced in behind him. “Thor! No!”

“Hey, Chris. I need to run. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

Michael hung up and rushed to investigate. Charlotte’s dog was in the living room, straddling a very startled Abby’s leg, humping away. “I take it this is Thor?”

Charlotte pulled her dog off Abby and tucked him under her arm, scolding him. “No. Bad dog.”

“Does he always do that? Rush into someone’s house and try to mate with the nearest canine?” Michael crouched down and showed Abby some love. “I’m sorry, sweets. He woke you up from your nap and everything.”

Charlotte blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. He got out of his kennel and bolted down the hall. He’s my little Houdini.” She lowered herself to the floor and sat with her legs crossed, letting the dogs sniff each other while she petted Abby. “Hi, Abs. Long time, no see.” Charlotte had such a sweet side when she chose to let it out, and he’d nearly forgotten what it was like to witness it. It made her even more beautiful, if that was possible. She cast her eyes up at him. “I think they can get along. I swear Thor’s not really like this. I think the move has him out of sorts. He can’t figure out what’s going on.”

“It’s funny. I’ve seen so many pictures of him, but you never brought him to my place. It seems strange that I never met him.”

Charlotte shot him one of her looks. He’d said the wrong thing. Again. “Are you serious right now? It wasn’t that I never brought him to your place. It’s that we always went to your apartment and my dog was never invited. You’re lucky I had a lonely retiree living next door to me. Thor spent most of our relationship with my old neighbor.”

Michael hadn’t really thought about it. It just always seemed easier to meet up at his apartment. “I’m sorry if it seemed that way to you.”

“It didn’t seem that way. It was that way. You never came to my apartment. Not once.”

Was that really true? He guessed it was. Damn. Michael’s phone rang again, saving him from the onslaught of shame Charlotte was likely about to launch at him. He straightened and fished his cell out of his pocket. “It’s your brother. Sorry. I need to get this.”

“It’s Sawyer? Why would he be calling you?” Charlotte seemed once again miffed by Michael’s existence on the planet.

“Maybe because we’re working together?” Michael pressed the button to pick up the call. “Hey there, Sawyer. What can I do for you this afternoon?”

“Nothing, actually. This call is purely social. I wanted to know if it’s best to mail you something at your office or if you’re ready to start getting mail at the Grand Legacy.”

“What sort of something?”

Michael watched as Charlotte attempted to further acquaint the dogs by placing Thor back on the floor. Unfortunately, the little brute returned to his previous libidinous activity.

“Is he fixed?” he whispered to Charlotte.

“Yes.” She frowned at him.

“I want to send you an invitation to my wedding,” Sawyer said.

“Oh. Great. I’d love to come to your wedding.” Michael said it entirely for Charlotte’s benefit, although he wished he could’ve received this invitation earlier, when Gabe had been bragging about it.

Charlotte’s face made the very short trip from shock to horror.

“It’s in a week, and I know this is last minute, but it occurred to me after we met the other day that we’re working on this project together and you’re the first resident of the Grand Legacy who isn’t related to me. I’d like to include you that day if you’re free. We’re having the ceremony and the reception at the hotel, so you won’t have far to go. And, of course, you should feel free to bring a date.”

Michael hadn’t been on a date since Charlotte had broken up with him. Not that he hadn’t entertained the idea. There were several women he’d considered asking out. But something stopped him, every time. He just wasn’t sure what his problem was. “Sounds great. You can go ahead and put me down with a plus-one. I’ll definitely bring a date.” Michael watched for Charlotte’s reaction, which turned out to be an overblown eye roll.

Michael and Sawyer said their goodbyes, and the movers brought in another round of boxes along with a few smaller pieces of furniture.

Charlotte scooped up her dog again. “So you’re bringing a date to my brother’s wedding? Or did you just say that for my benefit?”

Maybe. “Yes and no.”

“It wasn’t payback for Hunks with Trucks?”

He could admit to himself that he’d been irked that she’d hired an all-male revue to move her into the building, but he wasn’t about to own up to it with her. “I don’t bother with payback, Charlotte. You’re free to do whatever you want. You broke up with me, remember?” He disliked the tone in his voice, the one that said it still bothered him. He knew he should be over it by now, but it still felt like there was a lot unresolved between Charlotte and him. Being around her only brought it to the surface, like scratching a wound that hadn’t healed.

“I broke up with you because you practically dared me to do it. Which is probably why we should just agree to be kindly neighbors and work adversaries.”

Was that where this was going to end? It seemed a shame, but all signs pointed to yes. And maybe that was for the best. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“So says the guy who insists we’re racing to see who can sell their apartments first.”

“We’re still doing that.”

She closed her eyes and sucked a deep breath through her nose. “Goodbye, Michael.”

“’Bye.” He watched down the hall as she walked away, unable to ignore how much he loved the sway of her hips in stretchy black pants. He was definitely going to need to find a date for her brother’s wedding. There was no telling who Charlotte would show up with—probably Chad from Hunks with Trucks.

No, it was time for Michael to get back on the horse and start dating again. Maybe it would help him finally get Charlotte out of his system.