Читать книгу One Summer In New York - Trish Wylie - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

“HEAR ME OUT,” Ethan said, still on one knee.

Holly had been so stunned by his proposal that moments stood still in time. It was as if she watched the scene from outside her body.

In an Upper East Side apartment in New York an elegant man with wavy brown hair waited on bended knee after proposing to his dark-haired intended. Would she say yes?

Holly couldn’t remember if she had dreamt of a moment like this when she was a little girl. A dashing prince, the romantic gesture of kneeling, white horse at the ready. She’d probably had those fantasies at some point but she couldn’t recall them. They were buried under everything else.

Most of Holly’s memories were of hard times.

Growing up, it had been her alarm clock that had snapped her out of any dreams she might have had. The clock had made her spring her up quickly to check if her mother had woken up and was getting dressed for work. Or if she wasn’t going to get out of bed. Or hadn’t made it home at all during the night. Leaving Holly to scrounge together breakfast and a sack lunch for her and Vince.

No, Holly hadn’t had much time for fairy-tale dreams. She’d been proposed to before. After all, she’d been married. But Ricky’s offer had been about as heartfelt as their marriage had been. It had been on a sweaty, humid day in his beat-up old truck and it had gone something like, “I guess you want to get married...”

At the time, she’d thought that was about as good as it was going to get.

“It would be strictly business, of course.” Ethan continued with his proposition. “An engagement in name only.”

So Holly’s second marriage proposal was to be just as unromantic as her first.

A twinge of despair pinged through her.

Ethan was suggesting a fake engagement to appease his aunt and get her to retire before poor health tarnished her standing. She understood why he was asking, but she didn’t see what would be in it for her.

He anticipated her immediate trepidation and added, “We can negotiate a contract that is mutually beneficial.”

“That certainly sounds cut and dried, Mr. Benton.”

Even having this discussion was making her uncomfortable. Because it brought up notions like a little girl’s dreams and happily-ever-afters. Thoughts she couldn’t afford to linger on. Not then and not now.

She squinted at him. “Could you please get up?”

“I can.”

He rose, yet still held out the beer bottle label. Looking down at it he assured her, “We would purchase a proper engagement ring.”

“Let’s put the paper ring down for a minute, okay?”

He laid it gently onto the coffee table as if it was a thing of great value. “I have a scenario...” He gestured toward the sofa.

She followed him, but this time didn’t sit next to him as she had when they were eating pizza. She chose one of the black chairs opposite him. Best to keep her distance.

“May I be frank?”

“Oh...okay,” Holly answered with apprehension.

“You are new to New York. You mentioned that you do not yet have work. You mentioned that you could not afford to stay in a hotel. I am offering you very easy temporary employment. Pose as my fiancée. What I would pay you will help you establish yourself here. Shall we bring it to the bargaining table? Name your price.”

“Name my price!” Such a ruthless businessman! Everything was a deal to him. “Are you used to getting everything you want simply by demanding it?”

“Oh, I always get what I want.” His stare drilled into her.

Wow, what a predator. And why did that excite her rather than repel her?

Just for entertainment’s sake, she took a minute to fantasize what being his pretend fiancée might be like. She’d probably be physically near him quite a bit. He’d have his arm around her shoulder. Sometimes around her waist. They’d hold hands. He’d probably even place a kiss on her cheek in front of other people, just to put on a convincing show.

Holly snuck a glance at his mouth. Ripe lips that looked to be endlessly kissable. No way would a plan that involved her standing close to his lips ever, ever be a good idea.

But it didn’t matter, because she was just playing along hypothetically. “I’m not for hire by the hour!” She feigned indignation.

“There need not be anything sordid about it, Miss Motta.” Ethan eyed the paper ring on the table. “I assure you I am only proposing a trade agreement.”

She didn’t doubt that. This was a man who’d already said he kept company with stunning, glamorous women who ate one green bean. He’d never be interested in her romantically. She’d have nothing to worry about there.

But she couldn’t resist throwing in for fun, “My brother, Vince, is up for a promotion in your Miami office. Let’s say this deal included helping him along in his career...”

“Done,” Ethan answered quickly. “I would have to look at his human resources file and speak with the people who work with him. But if he is deserving, I would certainly look to promote my future brother-in-law.”

He leaned forward. Even though there was the coffee table between them, she could feel him zeroing in on her. Coming in for the kill. Determined to make the sale.

“What else, Miss Motta?”

He was so maddeningly sure of himself. Holly hadn’t met many people who were like that.

She sat dumbfounded, way out of her league.

Ethan raised a finger in the air with a thought. “Shall we consider it another way? You need somewhere to live. How about if I give you this apartment? I will put it in your name.”

Holly tried to keep her eyes from bugging out. How about if I give you this apartment? Who even said that?

“As you can imagine, real estate is something I have as a bartering tool. Regardless of what happens, you will have a home in New York.”

A home in New York. He really did know how to persuade a deal.

“What is it that might happen?” She had no intention of taking him up on his offer, but she was curious. “How is it that you see this working?”

He’d obviously thought this through well. Today was Monday. His aunt Louise and her boy-toy husband, Fernando, would be coming down from Boston this week in preparation for their Saturday shareholders’ gala. He’d present Holly to them on Wednesday night.

“Dinner. Le Cirque. Or one of the new Asian-Spanish fusion restaurants in Tribeca. Something flashy that shows us as a hip New York couple on top of the trends.”

“How about instead I throw a pot roast in the slow cooker?” Holly countered, batting him the idea.

His mouth tipped. “A home-cooked meal? Like she and Uncle Mel used to make on Sundays? Brilliant!”

Holly was no gourmet cook, but she knew how to work with the basics. She’d had to learn if she and her brother were ever going to eat. When they were kids she’d search through the pockets of pants left on the floor. Between the couch cushions. Under the seats in the car. Somehow she’d find enough money to buy a few groceries and put a meal together for her and Vince. Restaurant visits had been few and far between.

“Mashed potatoes. Roasted carrots. Apple pie...” She completed the menu.

“Perfect. I will try to be of assistance.”

“Continue,” she requested.

It was amusing to hear Ethan’s outline for the masquerade that she wasn’t actually going to be any part of.

Their next appearance would be at the shareholders’ gala on Saturday, where Holly would be formally introduced as Ethan’s fiancée.

“So I’d look amazing that night? Dress? Jewels? Hair and makeup? The whole nine yards?”

He sat silent for a minute, as if lost in his own memories. But then he snapped back with, “Of course. A couture gown would be chosen for you. My tuxedo tie will match your attire.”

“It’d be a crime if it didn’t.”

Then there would be an engagement party in Boston. A month or so later would come the announcement that Aunt Louise was stepping down. A grand retirement luncheon would send her off in style.

“In between those dates,” Ethan explained, “I would travel, so that you and I should not have to attend many events together. I will devise reasons that I have to spend prolonged periods in Florence or Sydney or the like.”

Ethan went on. After those appearances Aunt Louise and Fernando would move to Barbados as planned. Ethan and Holly—the happy couple—would fly to the island for long weekends three or four times during the first year. In between those visits Holly would be free to live the life she chose, as long as there was nothing criminal or anything that attracted attention.

Then they’d evaluate. They could continue to visit Aunt Louise and make excuses as to why they hadn’t yet married. Or they could tell fibs about a lavish wedding that would take an entire year to plan.

“Or,” he continued, “especially if you were to meet someone else and need to be free, we could call off the engagement. Aunt Louise would be settled into her island life of leisure. By that point there would not be any danger of her wanting to return to frigid Boston and the working grind.”

“And what if you were the one to meet someone?” she clipped, pretending to advocate a deal for herself.

“Impossible!” he spat immediately. “I will never marry.”

His harshness hit her like a slap in the face.

Or perhaps it was a warning.

“I see,” she assured him, and knew she’d understood his underlying message.

“Therefore, when we split up, you will own this apartment outright—which you can either keep, lease or sell. And the engagement ring. And whatever clothing and jewels have been purchased. Your brother’s position will be secure. We can also agree on a monetary settlement. In exchange for very little labor on your part, I can provide you with a lifetime of comfort and luxury.”

Game over.

Enough was enough.

Even if it could be as simple as he made it sound she had come to New York to get her own life straightened out. Not to get tangled up in someone else’s.

“Ethan, I appreciate the offer. And I think it’s great that you’ve done so much planning on this. It shows how much you care about your aunt. But this is not for me.”

He swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. His jaw tightened.

Was he upset?

Of course. This was a man who was used to getting everything he wanted. It wasn’t personal. She was a mere obstacle for him to overcome in order to reach his goal.

Ethan tapped his tablet. “Holly Motta dot com—is that it?”

She nodded, yes. What was he up to?

He typed.

“Huh...” His thumb slid through what she assumed to be her website’s gallery. “Huh...”

What was he thinking? She took great pride in her work. Suddenly it mattered to her what he thought of it. Which was silly, because his opinion was of no concern to her at all. Yet she sat on the edge of the chair, spine held stiff as she waited for a comment.

His thumb continued to swipe the tablet.

“Hmm...” His next sound was at a higher pitch than the one before. It sounded like approval.

“Why are you looking at my website?”

Ethan ignored the question and continued. His finger slid less frequently. He was spending more time on each piece of work.

Holly imagined what it might feel like to have that thumb slide across her cheek instead of the tablet screen. Or slowly down the center of her chest. That thumb and its nine partners on those two big hands looked as if they’d always know exactly what to do.

More fantasy. She hadn’t been touched in a long, long time.

Finally Ethan looked from the screen to her. “These are extraordinary.”

“Thank you,” she breathed with gratification—and relief.

He raised a finger in the air again. “Perhaps we can negotiate a merger that would be satisfying to both of us.”

She squished her eyebrows.

“In exchange for you posing as my fiancée, as I have outlined, you will be financially compensated and you will become legal owner of this apartment and any items such as clothes and jewels that have been purchased for this position. Your brother’s career will not be impacted negatively should our work together come to an end. And...” He paused for emphasis.

Holly leaned forward in her chair, her back still board-straight.

“I have a five-building development under construction in Chelsea. There will be furnished apartments, office lofts and common space lobbies—all in need of artwork. I will commission you for the project.”

Holly’s lungs emptied. A commission for a big corporate project. That was exactly what she’d hoped she’d find in New York. A chance to have her work seen by thousands of people. The kind of exposure that could lead from one job to the next and to a sustained and successful career.

This was all too much. Fantastic, frightening, impossible... Obviously getting involved in any way with Ethan Benton was a terrible idea. She’d be beholden to him. Serving another person’s agenda again. Just what she’d come to New York to get away from.

But this could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. An apartment. A job. It sounded as if he was open to most any demand she could come up with. She really did owe it to herself to contemplate this opportunity.

Her brain was no longer operating normally. The clock on Ethan’s desk reminded her that it was after midnight. She’d left Fort Pierce early that morning.

“That really is an incredible offer...” She exhaled. “But I’m too tired to think straight. I’m going to need to sleep on it.”

“As you wish.”

Holly moved to collect the luggage she’d arrived with. Ethan beat her to it and hoisted the duffel bag over his shoulder. He wrenched the handle of the suitcase. Its wheels tottered as fast as her mind whirled as she followed him to the bedroom.

“Good night, then.” He placed the bags just inside the doorway and couldn’t get out of the room fast enough.

Before closing the door she poked her head out and called, “Ethan Benton, you don’t play fair.”

Over his shoulder, he turned his face back toward her. “I told you. I always get what I want.”

* * *

Holly shut the door with her bare foot and leaned back against it. She pursed her lips together to keep from screaming. Her heart thumped so loud she was sure Ethan would hear it in the other room. Goodness gracious.

Ethan Benton and his proposition were quite simply the most exciting things that had ever happened to her!

A rush went through her as she recalled that devilish grin creeping slowly up his mouth. Those deep brown eyes that had stayed glued on her, assuring her he was listening to her when she spoke.

Holly hadn’t talked and listened as much as she had tonight in a long time. She hadn’t dated anyone since leaving Ricky the Rat two years ago. With her in Fort Pierce and Vince a two-hour drive away in Miami, she usually saw her brother twice a month. There was a girls’ night here and there with friends. That was about it.

She hadn’t really thought about it, but now when she did she realized she led a fairly solitary existence. Hopefully New York would jostle that, along with everything else.

But the change wasn’t going to come by stepping into Ethan Benton’s life. Although it might be the most fun she’d ever have. A jet-set world she’d only read about in magazines... Who wouldn’t want to dash off to Barbados for long weekends? To walk on pink sand with her toes in sparkling blue water. Attend glitzy parties...throw some of her own. Buy clothes without looking at the price tag. Never worry about where the rent or her next meal was coming from. Have the best of everything.

It would be amazing—even if it was only for a short time—to be completely taken care of. After all those years of putting other people ahead of her.

Which reminded her of how this deal could benefit her brother. Becoming part of the Benton family, even in name only, might help him further his career in a way he’d never have the chance to otherwise. He’d get to spend more time with Ethan and Louise. They’d see up close how capable and special he was.

No. This wasn’t about Vince. He’d be fine on his own. He was a grown man and his career was underway.

It was time for her future to begin. Period. In the morning she would tell Ethan no.

Besides, once he heard that she had already been married and divorced he wouldn’t think she was an appropriate choice for his game.

Right now, she needed to get some sleep.

She stopped short at the sight of the room’s king-size bed. This was where Ethan Benton had been planning to lay that tall, sturdy frame of his tonight. A wiggle shot up her spine at the mental image of him stretched out on this bed. Perhaps only wearing the plaid pajama bottoms as when she’d first seen him on the sofa.

On the bed she counted one, two...eight plush pillows, overlapped in a tidy row against the brown leather headboard. She imagined Ethan’s head against those pillows, with that curl of hair tousled on his forehead.

The luxury pillowcases alternated in color, tan then black. Which coordinated with the tightly fitted tan sheets. She ran a finger along the black duvet, tracing it down the right side of the bed. Then across the bottom. Then up the left. It was all too matchy-matchy for her tastes, but clearly made of expensive fabrics.

She eyed the wall-to-wall closet. If she took Ethan up on his proposal it would become filled with designer gowns for glamorous black tie dinners. Trendy separates for groundbreaking ceremonies. Classic sportswear for sailing jaunts and tennis tournaments. The finest shoes and purses and jewels.

None of that was her. She couldn’t picture it. Not even for make-believe.

Back on earth, Holly didn’t know whether she should unpack her suitcase full of jeans, comfortable skirts and tee shirts. She slid the blond wood closet door open to see if anything was inside.

Four men’s suits hung neatly on wooden hangers, with breathing room in between each. Dark gray, light gray, navy pinstripe and a beautiful maroon. They looked to be Ethan’s size. He’d probably look especially handsome in that maroon. It would go well with his brown eyes and that brown hair with its speckles of red.

There were freshly laundered shirts. Complementary ties. Polished shoes. A tuxedo and its accessories. Two pairs of pressed jeans. A pair of casual boots. She resisted the temptation to open any drawers. She had seen an overcoat and a leather jacket on the coat rack by the front door.

It wasn’t a large wardrobe. Ethan had said he traveled a lot, but hadn’t mentioned how long he was staying in New York.

She fingered the lapel of the maroon suit jacket. Ricky the Rat had only owned one wrinkly black suit. She could count on one hand the times he’d worn it. He was the jeans and workboots type. There were times she’d thought he was sexy.

One of the times he hadn’t been sexy was when she’d come home from work early one day and the workboots were all he’d had on. While he was in bed with their neighbor Kiki.

The rain was heavier outside now. Holly watched the bedroom window being pounded with sheets of the downpour. A rumble of thunder emphasized the storm’s strength. Good. Let it wash away her past.

Deciding to leave her suitcase on the floor for the night, she pulled back the duvet on the bed and climbed into the king-size reminder of the man who was already making her feel as if she were spiraling away from her old life. Even though her encounter with him would come to an end in the morning, her transition to something new had begun.

The bed was divine. The mattress firm. The sheets crisp. She pulled the thick cover over her. Beyond comfortable, she nestled in the oasis, away from cares and plans. It was a peaceful heaven on earth after such a long day. Time to rest her body and mind. She was going to sleep like a log...

Two hours later Holly tossed and turned with exasperation. She hadn’t kept her eyes shut for more than a minute before her brain had assaulted her with more and more opinions.

What Ethan was proposing could be her lucky break. A commission to do the artwork for his big development in Chelsea... A chance to really get started in New York...

She’d come to the city armed with work references, but the life of an artist could be tricky. Maybe nothing would pan out from the names and phone numbers she’d collected. Or she’d get small jobs here and there but they might not lead to anything else.

Ethan’s proposition was a multi-phase project that would probably be six months of work at least. In that time she could really put down roots here.

She was determined to make her entire living as an artist. Not to have to work anymore as a maid or a nanny during the lean times. Her goals were clear. New York was the place where dreams were made or broken. If it didn’t work out here, so be it—but she was certainly going to take her shot.

Imagine how much easier it would be without any astronomical rent to pay. New York apartment prices were notoriously high. Holly knew that she would probably have to live with a roommate. Maybe several of them. Some might have come to New York for the twenty-four-hour-a-day lifestyle, for the party that never ended. The household might be full of noise and people and activity at all hours of the day and night. It might prevent Holly from getting her work done or resting when she needed to.

Or she might end up with people who were slobs. Not able to tolerate a dirty mess, she would end up cleaning up after them. Cleaning up after people—how much of her life had she already spent doing that? She’d never minded taking care of her brother, but her ex-husband hadn’t ever seemed even to know where the trash can or the washing machine were. Nor had her mother.

Maybe these roommate slobs wouldn’t pay their share of their rent and she’d get evicted. She might end up having to move from place to place through no fault of her own. That would be maddening.

Ethan was offering work and a place to live. This tasteful apartment all to herself. It was one thing to be allowed to stay here while she looked for a place. It was quite another to have it belong to her. She could paint here. Reposition the furniture in the living room to make the most of the natural light.

Wait a minute.

Part of Ethan’s bargain was that he would pay her. She would be able to afford to rent studio space. A New York artist with her own studio... If that wasn’t a dream come true!

But on the other hand...

And she needed to consider...

She couldn’t really...

And then what...?

When Holly opened her eyes, a drizzly morning sky crept in through the window. At some point she had finally dozed off, her mind twirling about the past and what the future could hold. Now, with morning’s dawn in Ethan Benton’s bedroom, certainty hit her like a ton of bricks.

If something seemed too good to be true, it was.

Not cut out to be anyone’s pretend anything, Holly was only who she was. Ethan was kidding himself. It could only end in disaster. She would do him a favor by acknowledging the impossibility of his proposal, even though he wasn’t able to see it for himself.

His judgment was clouded by his deep love for his aunt Louise. How touching was his concern for her welfare, for her reputation and her happiness. Blood ran thick. A good man took his family responsibilities seriously...

She had to call her brother. She wouldn’t tell him about Ethan’s offer. But she did need his help sorting out this confusion about her staying in the apartment. It would be good to hear his voice. In the end, he was the only one she really had in her corner.

He’d be working out in the garage of the little house he rented in Miami. Lifting weights. Bench pressing and hoisting dumbbells before showering and getting to work at Benton.

“Vinz.” She pictured him, no doubt in a muscle shirt drenched in sweat. His close-cropped blond hair so unlike her black. The round blue eyes marking him as her kin.

“Holz! How’s the Big Apple so far?”

She explained the mix-up with the apartment.

Vince promised to make some calls as soon as he got into the office. “I’ll get it fixed,” he assured her.

“I don’t know if you can.”

“Listen to me, big sis. We’re going to sniff out opportunities for you and you’re going take them. You’ll grab everything that’s thrown your way.”

“Yeah.”

“Remember—straight up or fall down!” He chanted their lifelong rally call—the desperate bravado of two kids with no one but each other to root for them.

After hanging up, Holly held the phone in her hand and stared absently out the window for a while. Thick clouds in the sky moved horizontally across her vision.

There had always been rainy days. No one knew how many more were ahead. It would be such a gift to have an umbrella.

Finally she tossed the phone onto the bed and opened the door.

Ethan was in the kitchen. She watched him start a pot of coffee before he noticed she was there. When he did, she leaned against the doorway. Her hair was probably a mess. Surely she had bags under her eyes from her fitful night. She lifted her hand and looked at her fingers with their perpetual paint around the cuticles and under the nails. She was who she was.

“Okay, Ethan. I’ll marry you.”