Читать книгу Wicked Christmas Nights - Leslie Kelly, Cara Summers - Страница 11

Then

New York, December 23, 2005

LUCY HAD TO give this very handsome stranger—Ross—credit. He didn’t stand up and walk out of the coffee shop when she admitted she’d been fantasizing about separating an ex-boyfriend from part of his anatomy. He didn’t yelp, cringe, or reflexively drop a protective hand on his lap. None of the above. Instead he simply stared for a second, then let a loud burst of laughter erupt from his mouth.

She smiled, too, especially because she hadn’t really been fantasizing about maiming Jude when this guy had walked up behind her. In fact, she’d been laughing at herself for having thought about it earlier. Somehow, her whole mood had shifted from the time she’d walked into the coffee shop until the moment this incredibly handsome man had approached her.

Incredibly. Handsome.

Around them, others in the café glanced over. Lucy wasn’t blind to the stares that lingered on him. Heaven knew, any woman with a broken-in vagina would stare. Heck, hers wasn’t broken-in and she could barely take her eyes off the guy!

He’d been super-hot from across the room. Up close, now that she could see the tiny flecks in his stunning green eyes, the dazzling white smile, the slight stubble on his cheeks, well, he went from hot and sexy to smoking and irresistible. She’d actually shivered when their hands had met, unable to think a single thought except to wonder how those strong, rough fingers would feel sliding across her skin.

Gorgeous, sexy, strong. And a sense of humor.

Why couldn’t she have met this guy on a day when she didn’t loathe every creature with a penis?

You don’t. Not every guy.

Truthfully? Not even one. She didn’t loathe Jude. She would have had to care about him to hate him, and, honestly, having really thought about it, she knew she hadn’t cared much at all.

“You’re serious?” he asked once his laughter had died down.

“Not about doing it.”

“But thinking it?”

“My turn to take the fifth.”

“Why?”

“Probably because it’s not very nice to admit you fantasize about dismembering someone.”

“No, I meant why do you want to, um…dismember him?”

“I didn’t, I was just indulging in a little mind-revenge. He wasn’t the most faithful guy.”

“I hate cheaters,” he said, his voice both sympathetic and disgusted.

“Speaking from personal experience?”

“Well, not exactly,” he admitted.

Yeah. Because any woman who cheated on him would have to have been recently lobotomized.

“Though, I did kinda get cheated on once…by a guy.”

She didn’t take the bait, knowing that there was no way Ross was gay. There wasn’t one nonheterosexual gene in his body; you could practically smell the masculine pheromones that surrounded him like a cloud, attracting every woman in the place.

“Let me guess…your best buddy in first grade decided he wanted to play dodgeball instead of tag and left you alone in the playground?”

“Almost,” he said, his eyes gleaming with approval that she hadn’t gone where most would have. “It was in high school. I wanted my best friend to stick with the wrestling team, he wanted to do the school musical.” He shook his head sadly. “I just couldn’t understand what he was thinking. It wasn’t until junior year that he finally told me the truth, and then I was so furious I didn’t speak to him for a week.”

Somehow disappointed in him, she stiffened slightly. “You were mad that he was gay?”

“Hell, no, he wasn’t gay! He told me he left wrestling and went to drama because, let me see if I remember this exactly, ‘Why would I want to roll around on the floor with a bunch of sweaty dudes, when I could be one of only a handful of guys surrounded by some of the prettiest girls in the school?’ Man, some of those theater chicks were cute…and he never told me, he kept them all for himself!”

She laughed out loud, liking both the story, and that he had told it. He was obviously trying to distract her, to amuse her. It was a nice thing to do for a guy so young and good-looking.

“So, your first bro-mance ended up in a bad breakup.”

“Yup. Now, back to yours… .”

“Not a bro-mance, obviously. But also unpleasant. I only wish it were something as simple as him preferring The Sound of Music to pinning and undercupping.”

His eyes widened. “Hey, you know wrestling!”

“Older brother.”

“So is he going to kick this cheating dude’s ass?”

“Sam? No. He doesn’t live here, and even if he did, there’s absolutely no way I would tell him about this.”

“How come?”

“Because he’s a cop. And he’s extremely overprotective.” Though she didn’t usually discuss it, for some reason, she found this guy very easy to talk to, so she added, “He sort of became my father when our parents died.”

Ross leaned forward in his chair, dropping his elbows onto the table. His fingers brushed against her hand, in a move that was as fleeting as it was sweet. A faint brush of I’m Sorry and How Sad and Hey, I Understand. All unsaid. All understood.

All appreciated.

She cleared her throat, feeling the lump start to rise, the way it always did when this particular subject came up. “Anyway, I don’t need Sam to fight my battles. I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Ross said.

“Don’t worry, I’m really not the violent type. This guy didn’t crush my spirit, he merely dinged my ego.”

He held her stare, as if assessing the truth of her words. Lucy stared right back, a tiny smile on her lips, relieved that she meant exactly what she’d said, hoping he realized that, too.

“I’m glad,” he finally admitted, seeing the truth in her face.

“So am I.”

“Still, if you change your mind and decide to get all saw-crazy on this boyfriend, remind me not to go with you. I wouldn’t want to be arrested as an accomplice.”

She chuckled as he turned her earlier words back on her, then clarified, “Ex-boyfriend.” Shaking her head, she added, “Believe me, nothing could induce me to go back there.” Then something occurred to her. “Oh, no!” Lucy put a hand over her forehead as she remembered something. Because she was going to have to make a liar of herself. “I’m so stupid!”

“What?”

“My brother’s Christmas present to me. It came in the mail today—he sent it to Jude’s place because he knows mail sometimes gets stolen from the building where I live and Jude’s has a doorman.” She felt moisture in her eyes, furious at herself for forgetting the gift, but also worried about what Jude would do with it. “He’s probably already thrown it down the trash chute.”

“Jude?” he said doubtfully. “Lemme guess—spoiled, rich punk?”

It might have taken a little while for the blinders to come off, but Lucy had to admit, that pretty well described her ex. “How’d you know?”

“Having a doorman in NYC is a pretty big tip-off. So’s having a name like Jude. Plus, he must’ve done something pretty bad if you’re fantasizing about chopping the head off his trouser snake, yet he’d still throw out a Christmas gift from your brother…meaning he’s an immature, petulant brat.” He spread his hands. “Or a spoiled, rich asshole.”

“All of the above would cover it.”

“And you’re with this guy…why?”

“I’m not with him.”

“But you were as of…”

She sighed deeply. “About two hours ago.”

He whistled, leaning back in his chair, extending his long legs, crossed at the ankle. “Was it serious? I mean, were you guys exclusive?”

“Not according to him, apparently.”

His jaw tightened a tiny bit. “And according to you?”

“Well, I thought so, but maybe I just saw things differently than he did. We’d been dating three months, but we hadn’t even…you know. So maybe he cheated since he’d never gotten anywhere with me.”

Ross coughed into his fist, apparently surprised she’d admitted that. Maybe he was turned-off; some guys would be at the thought that a girl would wait three months before getting down to business. If so, better to find out now if he was one of them.

Why that should be, she didn’t know. After all, she might never even speak to this guy again once she left this shop. Somehow, the thought made her heart twist a lot harder than it had earlier when she’d thought about not seeing Jude anymore.

“Good for you,” he said.

Okay, so he wasn’t one of those guys, apparently. The realization warmed her a little on this very chilly day.

“Let him eat his heart out, wondering what he’s thrown away.”

She liked that idea. “I hope twenty years from now he’s still wondering if he missed out on the best sex of his life.”

Their stares locked as the heated words hung there between them. They were having a very intimate conversation for two strangers, and now, she suspected, they were both thinking a little too much about certain parts of that conversation

Like sex. Great sex. She might not have had it—great, or otherwise—but that didn’t mean she was immune to desire. Looking at the man sitting across from her, feeling the heat sluice through her veins to settle with quiet, throbbing insistence between her thighs, she knew full well she had a basic understanding of want.

Or more than basic. Because it wasn’t just her sex that was responding here. Every inch of her skin tingled as she thought of him touching her, pressing his mouth to all the more interesting parts of her body. Places that responded to the warm look in his eyes and how he opened his mouth to draw in a slow breath in a way they’d never responded to any guy’s most passionate embrace.

His gaze dropped to her mouth and his voice was thick as he finally replied, “I almost feel sorry for the bastard.”

She didn’t. And she definitely didn’t feel sorry for herself any longer. Not when, with one twenty-minute conversation, this complete stranger was introducing her to sensations her ex hadn’t elicited in months of dating.

They remained silent for one more moment. Then, as if they both realized they were falling into something neither had anticipated—at the speed of light, no less—they shifted in their chairs and broke the stare.

Lucy forced a light laugh, trying to pretend she wasn’t completely enraptured by the thought of pressing her mouth to the cord of muscle in his neck. “I’m not going to spare him any sympathy until I get my present back and make sure he didn’t destroy it.”

His gleaming eyes narrowed. “You really think he would?”

She considered it, remembered some of Jude’s more spiteful moods. Not to mention his ridiculously misplaced indignation that she’d walked in on him today—as if it were all her fault because she’d caught him, not his that he’d cheated. “It’s possible.”

Ross’s jaw clenched, a muscle flexing in his cheek. “Why don’t you let me take care of this?”

“Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough to know you shouldn’t have to beg somebody who betrayed you to give you back something that’s yours.”

She heard the note of protectiveness in his voice, and found it strange. And very nice. Ross had just met her, yet he’d already been more thoughtful and considerate of her feelings than Jude had in the past three months.

“It’s not that big a deal,” she insisted, not wanting to drag somebody else into her troubles.

“It’s from your only family member, Luce,” he replied, shaking his head. “So of course it’s a big deal. I want to make sure you get it back.”

Lucy’s breath caught. The soft way he’d said the nickname, Luce, seemed so tender. And the way he’d immediately understood why the gift from Sam was important to her, without her having to explain it…

Who are you? she couldn’t help wondering. Can you really be this nice a guy?

“Do you think he’d really destroy your Christmas present?”

She didn’t like to think so, but it was possible. “He was pretty mad when I left, mainly because I wouldn’t stick around to listen to his explanation.”

“Could there have been one?”

She snickered. “Sure.” She tapped her finger on her cheek, as if thinking it over. “Hmm, okay, I have an idea how it could have, uh…gone down.”

A half smile lifted one corner of his oh-so-sexy mouth, as if he understood the reason for her inflection.

“So, his skanky neighbor was taking a bath, and she forgot she had no shampoo,” Lucy explained. “Wrapped only in a towel, she came to his door to borrow some.”

“Wait,” he interrupted. “I bet I know what happened next. It just so happens, he was about to take a shower, too, so he was also only wearing a towel.”

She giggled, wondering why she could already find this funny when it had brought tears to her eyes earlier today. More proof that her heart hadn’t ever been involved in her relationship with Jude, she supposed.

“And then…hmm. Oh, I’ve got it,” she said. “A pack of wild dogs somehow got into the building, rode up the elevator, burst into the apartment and ripped off both their towels. And in the ensuing struggle, slutty neighbor chick tripped and fell mouth first onto his sad, strange-looking little penis.”

Ross winced. “Ouch.”

“Ouch for her, or for him?”

“Well, mainly for you,” he said, that gentle tone back in his voice. “For having to witness that.” That sexy grin flashed. “But also ouch to him for having a sad, strange-looking little penis.”

“Considering it was the first—and last—time I ever saw it, I can only say I’m glad I made the decision not to sleep with him.”

“Me, too,” he admitted, sounding as though he meant it. Which was odd, considering she didn’t even know him and neither of them had any idea if they would ever share anything more than this one conversation at this one particular moment.

She hoped they would. It was fast, and utterly surprising and the timing was pretty bad. But she already had the feeling this sexy, hardworking guy was someone special. And even if the timing was all wrong, she might be the one with lifelong regrets if she didn’t at least give this more time to play out.

“So, do you always go around telling strangers about your sex life?” he asked.

She played with her coffee cup, tracing her fingers on its rim, not meeting his eyes. “You’re the first,” she admitted. Hoping she wouldn’t reveal too much, she shrugged and added, “You just don’t seem like a stranger.”

He didn’t. She felt like she was already starting to know him, or at least know the essence of him. The physical attraction had been instant. But there was so much more. Earlier, when she’d mentioned her parents, there’d been that warmth, the smile, the tender looks, that ever-so-gentle brush of his fingers against her hand. Then there was his reaction to her having been cheated on. His indignance over her lost Christmas present.

All those things told a story. A nice one. A good one.

A story she wanted to explore a little more. Or a lot more.

“Okay then, if we’re not strangers, I guess that means we’re friends,” he told her with a tender smile. Then, without explanation, he pushed the chair back and stood up. She wasn’t sure what he intended—to leave, to ask her out?—until he extended a hand to her.

“So, come on, friend. Let’s go reclaim your Christmas present.”

CONSIDERING HOW beautiful Lucy was, Ross didn’t expect her ex to be a total dog, even if he was a total dick. There had to have been something she’d found attractive about the guy. And even though he hadn’t known her long, he already felt pretty sure it hadn’t been the money. She just didn’t seem the type. There wasn’t a fake thing about her…and he should know. He’d looked. Hard.

Hell, it had been impossible not to look, not to try to get to know everything about her. Sitting across from each other at that coffee shop, they’d fallen into an easy, laid-back conversation that it had taken him a half-dozen meetings to achieve with other girls. Then things had gone from warm and friendly to hot and expectant.

He shouldn’t have started thinking about Lucy’s sex life, much less talking about it. Because it was damned hard to get it out of his mind—or to stop wondering about that look she’d had in her eye during the long silence they’d shared.

Walking outside to drop off his tools in his truck, then to the subway so they could ride up to her dopey ex’s neighborhood, he found himself more surprised by her with every move she made.

She never stopped talking, but didn’t jabber about stupid, inane stuff. He didn’t once hear the word shoes. Or makeup. Or shopping.

She talked about the city—how much she loved the energy of it, the pace, the excitement.

She stopped to take pictures—things that would never occur to him to be interesting, like a pile of trash bags or an old rusty bike against a fence.

She talked about her plans to go to Europe after she graduated, to photograph anything that moved and lots of things that didn’t.

She bought one of those disgusting hot dogs off a cart, and actually ate the thing.

She passed a five dollar bill to a homeless guy. She also dropped another five into a bell-ringer’s bucket, even as she admitted she didn’t really like Christmas, claiming her favorite response to anyone’s “Merry Christmas,” was “Bah, humbug!”

He had a hard time buying that one. She was too cute and sweet and generous to be a Scrooge. But he did see the shadow in her expression whenever she talked about the holiday and suspected she was serious about disliking it.

Other than that, though, she laughed a lot. She smiled at strangers. She turned her face up to meet the softly falling snow and licked its moisture off her lips. Sweet laugh, beautiful smile, sexy lips.

All in all, aside from totally attracting him, she charmed him. It was an old-fashioned description, but it fit. Lucy was, quite simply, charming. Plus adorable. And hot as hell. Every minute he spent with her made him like her even more…and made him more determined to ensure her cheating ex didn’t get the chance to hurt her again.

She was, in short, fantastic. So, no, he definitely didn’t see her hooking up with someone who had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. This Jude guy, who lived in a high-rise building with apartments that probably cost five times the rent in his own tiny place, had to have something to attract someone like Lucy.

Then he met the loser, face-to-face, and understood.

Jude Zacharias was spoiled, handsome and smooth—one of those old-money types whose family name probably hadn’t been tainted by the stench of real work for a few generations. But the main thing about him, the thing that would suck in any girl, was the earnest charm.

He laid it on thick from the minute he answered the door and saw Lucy. He even managed to work up a couple of tears in his eyes as he told her how sorry he was that he’d let some skank trick him into doing something bad—ha—how much he wished he could take it back and how glad he was that she’d returned.

Then he spotted Ross, who’d been hovering just out of sight, near the hallway wall.

“Who the fuck is he?”

Stepping forward, Ross said, “He the fuck is Lucy’s friend, Ross. We’re here to pick up the package she left behind. Now, would you get it, please? We’re in a hurry.”

Yeah. Not because he had errands to run, but because he was in a rush to get Lucy away from this prick who’d hurt her, even if it had been her pride, not her heart that had been dinged. Honestly, he’d wanted to rip the guy’s hand off when he’d actually reached out and tried to touch her. Fortunately, Lucy had stepped aside, out of reach.

The guy’s jaw hit his chest. He gaped, then sputtered, finally saying, “Who are you?”

Ross looked at Lucy and shrugged. “Is he brain damaged or something? Like I said, I’m Ross. I’m here to make sure you give Lucy her package, and that you don’t try anything.”

“Lucy, are you serious? Did you bring this guy to throw in my face, make me jealous or something?” He reached for her hand. “Babe, you don’t have to do that, you know I’ll take you back.”

“Dude, get over it. You’ve been dumped,” Ross said.

Jude’s glare would have fried an egg. “Mind your own damn business. Why the hell are you here anyway?”

Lucy stepped between them. “Ross is a friend.”

“Yeah, sure, right. How long has he been your…friend?”

She tapped a finger on her lips, as if thinking about it, then cast a quick, mischievous glance toward Ross. “Oh, about an hour now.”

Jude sputtered. Lucy ignored him.

“He just wanted to come along in case you decided to be a jerk about my package.”

The guy sneered. “Oh, yeah? And what’s he gonna do if I say you can’t have it?”

Ross’s fingers curled into fists and his jaw tightened. He took a step toward the door. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever felt this anxious to punch someone but he didn’t think so. Something about hearing the way this little asshole talked to Lucy brought out the overprotective he-man in him.

She put up a hand, stopping him. “It’s okay. Jude, please don’t be a pain about this. Can I just have my package?” She reached into her purse and pulled out a key ring. “And here, you should have this back.”

He snatched the key out of her hand, cast one more glare at Ross, then stepped back into the apartment. He returned a few seconds later, shoving a small, paper-wrapped carton toward her. It was mashed, dirty, slightly torn.

Lucy stared at it, her bottom lip trembling, then took it. A small shake elicited a tinkling sound from inside. The paper in which it was wrapped was damp.

Whatever had been inside had contained some kind of liquid. And it was broken.

“You didn’t,” she whispered, her voice thick. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

Jude shrugged. “Hey, just figured it must not have been important if you left it here, so I was gonna pitch it.”

It looked as though the bastard already had. Against a wall.

Furious, Ross took another step toward him. “You petty little douchebag.” This time, Lucy was too distracted by the ruined gift in her hands to stop him.

Good. That left Ross free to grab a fistful of her ex-boyfriend’s top and shove him back into his apartment. The guy tripped over a table, stumbling backward a few steps before falling on his arrogant ass.

“Take another step and I’ll call the cops!” he shrieked. Obviously pretty boy wasn’t used to anybody threatening his perfect, spoiled little self.

“I could knock out your teeth before they get here,” Ross growled.

The other guy scrambled backward as Ross stalked him, step by step.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” he said. “Lucy, come on, you know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. It was an accident.”

“Accident my ass,” Ross said as he leaned down and hauled the guy up by the collar of his J. Crew sweater.

His right hand curled into a fist but before he could let it fly, Lucy grabbed his arm. “Let him go. Please, Ross, let’s just get out of here.” She cast her ex a withering look. “Hey, he did me a favor. If there was any doubt in my mind that he’s a disgusting, hateful person, this eliminated it.”

“Babe…”

“Bite me, Jude,” she snapped.

Ross grinned, then, for good measure, pushed the dude backward until he hit the couch, sprawling out on it.

Ross glanced at Lucy, seeing she’d hugged the package to her chest, apparently not caring that it was wet. It was like seeing someone who’d lost their most prized possession. Nobody deserved to be cheated on, humiliated and then, to top it all off, have something important to them shattered. Remembering what she’d said about it being just the two of them after their parents had died, he felt his heart twist in his chest, knowing how much her brother’s gift must have meant to her.

His own family drove him crazy sometimes—especially his overly controlling father—but he couldn’t imagine life without them. She was so young to bear that kind of sadness. One thing he knew, Lucy Fleming had to be one hell of a strong young woman. And a forgiving one, if she was determined to stop him from kicking her ex’s ass.

“Please, can we just go?” she asked.

Yeah. She seemed pretty determined. That was lucky for the ex, even though it didn’t make Ross too happy.

“Fine,” he told her.

He took her arm and led her to the door, glancing back over his shoulder before they walked through it. The ex still sat there on the couch, a sneer curling his lips. As if he were the injured party in this whole rotten mess.

The boiling well of anger inside him had rolled back to a slow simmer, and Ross knew he had to get out of here before it boiled back up. Mr. J. Crew dickhead had finally realized the merits of shutting the hell up, but that look on his face was seriously pissing Ross off. If he opened his mouth again, or if one single tear fell out of Lucy’s eyes, he was gonna go postal on the squirmy punk.

Her hand tightened on his arm, as if she knew what he was thinking. So he wouldn’t do it. But something wouldn’t let him leave without one more parting shot. “Hey, dude, don’t worry, I wouldn’ta hit you. Wouldn’t risk damaging that pretty face of yours, ’cause it sounds to me like you really need it.”

“What do you mean?” the other man snapped, starting to rise from his seat. Emboldened, perhaps, by the thought that Ross was admitting he wouldn’t have hit him?

Just give me a reason, punk.

Ross shrugged as Lucy stepped into the hallway ahead of him. “I mean, it sounds like you need whatever help you can get. From what I hear, you not only have a scrawny neck, you have a scrawny dick as well.” Tsking, he shook his head. “Even worse, a sad, strange-looking one.”

The other guy’s face erupted in scarlet, and he sputtered, but couldn’t come up with anything to say. Which, in Ross’s mind, confirmed what Lucy had said about him. A guy with an ounce of self-confidence would have laughed, or sneered. Jude just looked like he wanted to call Mommy and make the new kid stop saying mean things to him.

“Oh, by the way,” he added. “Happy birthday.”

Ross slammed the door, not waiting for Jude to come up with a crushing reply. Not that he could, really, because, man, any guy who couldn’t defend himself against small-cock accusations didn’t have much of a leg to stand on.

It wasn’t until they were alone in the elevator, heading toward the bottom floor, that he looked down and saw Lucy’s shoulders shaking. It was as if she’d held herself together, keeping her emotions in check until she got out of sight of her ex, but now that they were alone, her sadness over the day’s events had come crashing down on her.

He turned her toward him. Ross fully intended to take her into his arms, awkwardly pat her back or whatever guys Did to console crying women. But before he could do it, he realized he’d made a big mistake.

“Oh…my…God…” she said between gasps, which weren’t caused by tears, but rather, by laughter. She looked up at him, her lips shaking, her eyes twinkling with merriment. “Did you see his face?”

“I saw,” he said, smiling down at her, so pleased she wasn’t brokenhearted over creepy Jude that he wanted to pick her up and swing her around in his arms.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “You were my knight in shining armor.”

He grinned and gestured toward his bomber jacket. “Carpenter in tarnished leather, at best.”

Her pretty mouth widened in a smile. “Either way…my hero.” Then, still looking playful, happy, appreciative, she rose on her tiptoes and reached up to brush her delicate fingers against his cheek. He had about a second to process what she was about to do before she pressed her soft lips against his.

It was a thank-you kiss, he had no doubt about that.

Sweet. Tender. Simple.

Incredibly good.

It should have been nothing but a three-second brush of skin on skin, an expression of gratitude between two people who didn’t really know each other yet but definitely wanted to.

But damned if Ross was willing to let it go down that way. Once he felt Lucy’s mouth, shared her sweet breath, impulse took over. He lifted both hands, cupping one around her cheek. The other he tangled in her long, thick hair, taking pure pleasure in the softness of it, letting it glide through his fingers like water.

He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue out to tease hers. Lucy groaned slightly, taking what he offered and upping the ante even more by tilting her head and widening her mouth. Thank you and you’re welcome turned into I-want-you and where’s the nearest bed in about ten seconds flat. Sweetness faded and heat erupted as their tongues thrust and twined.

“Ahem.”

It took a second for the voice to intrude. But another throat-clearing and a titter finally invaded his Lucy-in-fused consciousness. It appeared they’d arrived at the bottom floor. The door had slid open and they were providing quite a show for the people waiting in the lobby.

Filled with regret, he pulled away, looking down into her pretty, flushed face, seeing the way her long lashes rested on her high cheekbones. She kept her eyes closed a moment longer, swaying a little toward him. But the box pressed against her chest prevented her from melting into his body.

And their sudden, unwelcome audience prevented him from moving the box.

“We’re here,” he whispered.

Her eyes flew open. Seeing the strangers watching them—two young men with their arms around each other’s waists, both grinning widely, and an older, white-haired woman whose grin was, if possible, even wider—Lucy stammered an apology.

“No need to apologize,” one of the men said, waving his hand as Lucy and Ross exited the elevator.

The other nodded in agreement. “Tell me this means you ditched 6C.”

Lucy’s jaw fell open. “Wha…?”

“He’s a bad egg,” the woman said, jumping into the conversation as if they had all known each other for years. In truth, Ross suspected they were complete strangers to Lucy. “A total fart-weasel.”

Ross coughed into his fist at the description, but the two men were already nodding in agreement. “He sure is.”

“Have we met?” Lucy asked, shaking her head in confusion, confirming Ross’s suspicion.

“No,” said the darker-haired man. “But we all live on six, too. And honey, 6C is just nasty. So not your type!”

“Thanks,” she murmured, looking even more embarrassed than before. Considering complete strangers were dissecting her love life, he could see why.

The light-haired man eyed Ross. “Did you beat him up?”

“No.”

Ms. Elderly Busybody sighed heavily. “That’s too bad. I’ve been hoping somebody would. That boy could benefit from an ass-whupping.”

“Well, given what I know of him so far, I have no doubt that someday your prayers will be answered,” Ross said.

He and Lucy murmured goodbyes to their three new friends, then headed for the door. As they approached him, the doorman offered Lucy a conspiratorial wink, as if he agreed with the other residents’ opinion of her ex. Which was nice, but probably had to be making Lucy feel even worse about ever having dated the fart-weasel in 6C.

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

She sucked in a surprised breath, and stopped halfway across the lobby. Looking up at him, she appeared shocked that he’d been able to figure out what she’d been thinking.

“He’s a con artist, Luce,” Ross said with a simple shrug. “He became what you wanted him to be.”

“Yes, he did,” she murmured. “But how did you know?”

“Guys do it all the time, especially with girls who won’t, uh… .” He didn’t want to be crass enough to say put out, though that was what he meant.

“Gotcha,” she said. “And thanks for not telling me I was a complete idiot for not seeing it sooner.”

“You did see it,” he told her, not liking that self-recrimination in her voice. “Which is probably why you wouldn’t, uh…”

This time, during the pregnant pause while they both mentally filled in the blank, Lucy actually laughed. “You really are a nice guy, aren’t you?”

“I have a few ex-girlfriends who would disagree, but my parents like to think so.”

“I think I’ll have to side with your folks on that one.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them that,” he said with a grin.

She grinned back, then, without another word, slipped her hand into his and turned again toward the exit.

As her soft fingers entwined with his, Ross’s heart jolted. He’d kissed her, touched her…but this was a little bit more. It wasn’t just a simple touch. That clasped hand was so easy and relaxed, like she already trusted him, as if they’d known each other for weeks rather than hours.

He honestly wasn’t sure what was going to happen when they walked out of this building. He’d done what he’d set out to do—escorted her to her ex’s place to retrieve her present. But now what? They’d made no other plans. It was the day before Christmas Eve, the streets were a madhouse, he had a million things to do. But as they walked into the bracing December day, alive with the thrum of city life, laughter, and energy, all he could think was that the very last thing he wanted was to say goodbye to her.