Shannon stopped breathing, moving, thinking …

His lips. Her lips. Together. Kissing. Oh.

Thinking would come later. Now was for goosebumps and heat. She’d wanted this so much … it was definitely in the cards.

Nate’s breath on her lips and her chin, the sudden loss, made her open her eyes.

His right hand floated near her face before his fingertips brushed the path of her blush up her cheek to her temple. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, then winced slightly. “More than beautiful. How did that happen? When?”

“You went away.”

“And you became a gorgeous woman.”

She doubted she could blush harder. “You came back better, too.”

“Older, at least.” His fingers moved into her hair, carefully, slowly. “Hopefully wiser.”

“Definitely better,” she said, momentarily panicked that wiser meant he knew they shouldn’t be doing this.

“I don’t want to stop.”

She stepped closer to him, letting more of her body press against his.

“No one’s asking you to …”

About the Author

JO LEIGH is from Los Angeles and always thought she’d end up living in Manhattan. So how did she end up in Utah, in a tiny town with a terrible internet connection, being bossed around by a house full of rescued cats and dogs? What the heck, she says, predictability is boring. Jo has written more than forty novels and can be contacted at joleigh@joleigh.com.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the final story in the IT’S TRADING MEN! trilogy. Writing these three books (Choose Me, Have Me and now Want Me) has been fun! I’ve fallen in love with Charlie, Jake and Nate, and want to be like Bree, Rebecca and Shannon.

Shannon came up with the brilliant notion of using trading cards to trade men. You’d think she would have been the first to find her Mr Right. Wrong!

Fiery redhead Shannon Fitzgerald has more than the St Marks lunch exchange on her mind. She’s doing everything in her power to keep her family’s business running, she’s co-ordinating a huge Easter fundraiser, and she’s giving up hope that she’ll ever find true love. When she runs into long-time family friend Nate Brenner at a wedding, she immediately sees his potential as a trading card hottie.

The last thing either Shannon or Nate imagines is for sparks to fly between them. Especially since Nate is sharing Shannon’s house … in the bedroom next door! When sparks turn into a passionate flame, both of their lives are changed forever … especially when the trading cards for trading men become a national scandal, with Nate and Shannon in the heart of the storm!

As always, I can be reached at joleigh@joleigh.com, and hearing from readers is the best thing ever!

Love to you all,

Jo Leigh

Want Me

Jo Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

As always, I owe so many thanks to Debbi and Birgit for being true partners in this crazy writing endeavor.

1

THE WEDDING WAS IN FULL swing, “The Irish Rover” was in heavy rotation by the band, beer was flowing and the hundred and fifty friends and family of Theresa O’Brian-Moran were halfway to hangovers.

Shannon Fitzgerald had found a relatively quiet corner. It had taken Shannon the better part of the evening to convince herself to approach her second cousin about joining the small and exclusive St. Marks lunch exchange. But Ariel was perfect, really. At twenty-four, she was three years younger than Shannon, lived in Nolita, worked in Midtown and was still single, as was Shannon. Arial was also very pretty and had attracted a group of red-faced, very happy young men wanting to dance.

Shannon had pulled in her share of slightly older young men, mostly in the twenty-eight-to-thirty-five range, although Angus was hovering and he’d just turned eighty-three. It was like being caught in a swarm of bees. Shannon and Ariel kept swatting them away, but they just circled over to the bar, then came back.

“Trading cards?” Ariel asked, leaning in so she’d be heard above the fiddles and tin whistle of the band and the tipsy pleading of brokenhearted boys. “I thought it was a lunch exchange.”

Shannon nodded. “It’s both. If you want to do the food part, you bring in frozen lunches for fourteen, then you take home your own fourteen lunches. It saves a ton of money and gives you variety, but the important thing is the trading cards. All of us have friends or exes or coworkers who are eligible single men.”

She pushed her cousin Riley a full arm’s length away without giving him a glance. His breath. God. “Nice men,” Shannon continued. “Men we’d want our best friend to go out with.”

Ariel nodded slowly, fussing a little with the bodice of her pink dress, then her eyes lit up. “David Sainsbury at my office. He’s off-limits to me, but he’s extremely nice and he just broke up with his girlfriend. He’d be a real catch. He’s always nice to the temps, and he gets coffee for his assistant every time he gets a cup for himself. He’s funny, too.”

“There you go,” Shannon said, tickled about the addition of David, who sounded like someone she might be interested in.

“How do I do this? Submit his name?”

“You procure a picture of David, a head shot is best, let us see what we’re getting. I’ll make sure you have a few samples of the cards that are no longer in circulation. Then I put the picture on the front of the trading card.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. The printing plant.”

Shannon wondered if that was Ariel’s first beer. Fitzgerald & Sons was a huge part of the extended family. Ariel’s father had worked there for over ten years before he opened his stationery store. But then it was hard to think in all this craziness. “For the back of the card,” Shannon said, deciding right then to reiterate all of this information in a follow-up email, “you fill out a short form. It starts with his profession. Then whether he’s a marry, date or one-night stand.”

Ariel’s head tilted as she let the second part sink in. “Ah,” she said, when the beauty of that key piece of information hit.

“Exactly. Next, his favorite restaurant. Then his secret passion. Not his career but the thing he loves more than anything. Sports or movies or dancing. Whatever turns him on.”

“David is completely into science fiction. He’s always got a book nearby.”

The wistfulness of Ariel’s voice made it clear that Shannon wouldn’t be going out with David. She and Ariel were cousins, and she wasn’t interested in starting a family feud. “Are you sure he’s off-limits?”

“Company policy. He’s one of their top attorneys.”

“Maybe it’d be worth it to try and find another job,” Shannon said, turning briefly to shoo away one of the Wilson twins.

Ariel shook her head. “I’ve put out feelers. It’s murder out there. I’m not risking my job for anything. They have full medical.”

“Understood.” She took a sip of her white wine, sacrilege in this crowd, but Shannon didn’t care. Beer was for the pub. Wine was for weddings. “After his passion comes the bottom line—what it is that makes him special. Why you’re recommending him. Then, I put that information on the back of the card, do the printing and, voilà, we have Hot Guys Trading Cards.”

“I love this idea,” Ariel said. “I really do.”

“It works. It’s safe, too, because the person who submits the card sets up the date. And no one outside the group knows the cards exist.”

“Including the guys?”

“Especially the guys.” Shannon made a point of looking Ariel in the eyes. “The whole thing is a secret, very private. No one knows outside the group. Understand?”

Ariel nodded, took a healthy swig of her beer and grinned, showing off her expensive dental work. “It’s brilliant.”

“I know,” Shannon said, not even a little bit embarrassed to say so since the whole concept had been her idea. “We’ve only been swapping cards for a couple of months, and it’s exceeded our expectations. The only problem we haven’t solved is how to keep increasing the dating pool while still keeping it a secret. Very tricky.”

“Shannon.” The deep voice behind her made her look because she couldn’t immediately identify who was speaking. It wasn’t a cousin, which was astonishing, but he might as well have been. “Hello, Mike.”

“I was wondering if you’d like to take a turn with me?” He nodded toward the dance floor.

Mike was a nice man, almost thirty, owned a bookstore that was holding on by a thread, and she felt guilty for not liking him more. They’d tried dating once and there’d been no chemistry whatsoever. Maybe she should put him on a card. He really was sweet. “Oh, sorry. Maybe later? I’m in the middle.”

“Sure, sure thing,” Mike said, giving her a dejected smile. “I’ll be around.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, which was a matter of two steps, Ariel leaned in again. “What kind of men are on the cards? Are there any restrictions?”

“Nope. Except that they need to be local. And looking. There’ve already been some epic matches. Like Charlie Winslow and Bree Kingston.”

Ariel’s jaw dropped. “That was you?”

Shannon smiled. “It was.”

“Holy cow. That’s incredible. I’m in.”

“Great.” Shannon pulled out a tiny little notepad that fit in her tiny bridesmaid’s purse that matched her pale green dress perfectly. “I’ll give you the address and—”

Ariel was no longer listening. She was staring over Shannon’s shoulder. “Is he on a card?”

Shannon looked where Ariel was pointing. “Danny? No. I decided not to put my brothers into the mix. Too complicated. Besides, since when have you been interested in—”

“Not Danny, the guy with Danny.”

The guy in question looked kind of familiar. His body, on the other hand …

“What? Who is he? Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’d remember,” she murmured as she checked out his shoulder-to-waist ratio, which looked to be perfect. He was in a white oxford shirt, top button undone, dark tie loosened. His slacks were a great fit, designer, not off-the-rack. The whole package was hot. His dark hair, the way he tilted his head back as he laughed, his smile …

“Oh, my God.” Shannon stood up, stuffed the unfinished note back in her bag. “That’s Nate Brenner.”

“Who?”

“Danny’s friend. I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“Well, go find out if he’s single, would you? He’s a total babe.”

Shannon nodded as she headed his way, staring hard to make sure she was right. Yep. The closer she got, the clearer it became that the boy who’d practically grown up with her family was not a boy anymore. How had that happened? Time, of course, but because she hadn’t seen him in so long, he’d continued to be eighteen and skinny and more than a little obnoxious to the thirteen-year-old sister of his best friend. No more obnoxious than her own brothers, though. All four had been insufferable. They’d made fun of her hair, of her desire to be on the stage. It hadn’t helped that they’d been forced to come to the various pageants where she’d posed and danced and belted out her off-key songs. She’d made them miss games. The unforgivable sin.

When it came to her four older siblings every topic of conversation was centered on sports. Every conversation. Even when the discussion was about, say, books, they were sports books. Movies—sports. Okay, that and car crashes, but those were sports films in a way. Women entered the picture only if they first passed the team test. If they were crazy about Notre Dame football, they were in. The Yankees? In. The only variable was the Boston Celtics. They weren’t the favorite, but they were acceptable.

She’d suspected there was more to Nate; he’d been more pensive, more intense than her hooligan brothers, but she’d been young when he disappeared, so she’d stopped wondering.

The transition from teenager to man had been very, very good to Nate, that was for sure. He would be thirty-two now, same as Danny. She’d never once thought of him as being good-looking. Passable, yes, cute, maybe. But hot? Not a chance.

“Hey, Princess,” Danny said, as she got within talking distance. “Look who’s here.”

Nate’s eyebrows lifted and his smile widened. “That can’t be Shannon.”

“It can and it is,” she said, and then they were hugging, and it felt weird as hell for a whole list of reasons. His chest, for one thing. Firm, strong, broad. The feel of her breasts against it was sparking things that she had no business even noticing. This was a guy she’d known since she could remember. She’d seen him in his Spider-Man pajamas. They’d been his favorites, although sometimes he’d worn a cape or carried a light saber.

She pulled back to look at him. “Where the hell have you been? It’s been forever.”

“All over the place. It’s too long a story to bore you with now. I want to hear what you’ve been doing.” He looked her over then did the vertical version of a double take. “Aside from … you’re all grown up.”

“That tends to happen,” she said. “So are you.”

“I’ll admit I got older. But I’m not sure about the grown-up part.”

“Do you still put cherry bombs in toilets?”

He and Danny cracked up. “No,” Nate said. “I’m very proud to say that I stopped doing that.”

“It’s a start,” she said. “Did you come back for the wedding?”

“Coincidence. I’ve got business. Selling my father’s firm. And looking for a town house.”

“Selling your father’s … Oh, God. I heard about your dad. I’m so sorry.” He’d passed away two years ago, and she’d meant to write Nate.

“Thanks,” he said as if it were nothing, but then his jaw tensed.

Shannon wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been staring so rudely. “Did something happen to your house in Gramercy?”

“My mom sold it. She’s living in Tel Aviv now. Got remarried. She’s working at the university there.”

“That’s quite a few major changes.”

“Not really. You Fitzgeralds are amazingly stable, that’s all. What, it’s only you and Brady still living in that huge brownstone?”

“And the parents.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” Danny said. “I’m going to see if I can get Megan to dance with me.” He poked Nate in the chest. “You can tell the Princess here all about your adventures. And the good news.”

Shannon watched her brother dive into the heart of the crowd.

“So they still call you ‘Princess’?”

She looked back at Nate with a sigh. “I’ve given up trying to make them stop. They’re horrible, all of them. I can’t imagine why you still like Danny.”

Nate touched the back of her arm, and it jolted her like a static charge. “Every one of your brothers would throw themselves on a sword for you.”

“When?” she asked.

He laughed, and it was so much deeper than when he’d been eighteen. She looked at him again. “How’s your sister?”

“Married. With a kid. A little girl. They live in Montauk.”

“Good for her.”

Nate looked at the dance floor, his hand still on her arm. “You want to give it a go?”

She hadn’t danced yet, and since the set was now modern music instead of traditional Irish dance, she smiled. “I’d love to.” Nodding at a beer mug on the closest table, she said, “Your table?”

He slipped her purse from her fingers and put it next to the mug. “It is now.” Then he led her to a corner where they had some chance of not getting an elbow in the ribs.

Shannon liked the song, although she never gave it a thought outside of weddings or elevators, but the beat was good, and she was feeling fine. Happy. She’d recruited Ariel, been completely surprised by Nate and no one had asked her to sing or do any step dancing. It had been part of her repertoire as a young girl, but she’d let it go when she entered high school. Sadly, the family hadn’t.

She moved to the music, got her rhythm then smiled at Nate. Ten seconds later, it was all she could do not to burst out laughing.

He was awful. The kind of awful that had to be genetic because no one would choose to dance that way. None of his limbs seemed connected to any of his other limbs, and what was he doing with his head?

She squeaked as she held her smile in place, and he was grinning right back at her as if he owned the whole dance floor.

Danny and Megan swung close by and Danny, her complete ass of a brother, slugged Nate in the shoulder, laughing so hard he had to stop everything else. “You are the saddest excuse for a white guy I have ever seen on a dance floor. Jesus, Nate, you look like someone stuck a firecracker up your ass.”

Nate grinned at Danny and kept on doing … whatever it was he was doing. “I am my own man in every way,” he said—no, shouted—then he spun around in an oval. “You don’t recognize true artistic expression, you heathen. Be gone.” He flapped his hand, although it was pretty much what he was doing already.

She laughed. But not because he was a total dork. Because he embraced being a dork. Her hand, she noticed, was over her heart, and despite the music and the utter chaos around her, all she could think was that Nate hadn’t just grown into a really good-looking man, he’d also become completely adorable.

The music stopped, but only for a second, and the next song was faster, wilder, and she let go. By God, she let herself dance as if she were in her bedroom, as if no one were watching. Like Nate.

His laughter hit her as she spun around, and she couldn’t help returning it. They’d earned themselves a nice slice of dance floor, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so free. The song ended too soon, and the two of them fell together to gasp in some much-needed breath.

“That was fantastic,” he said.

“It was.”

“Not a lot of women appreciate my unique style.”

“They’re fools and cretins.”

“Ah, Shannon. You’re too kind.”

“Oh, I’m not. I’m really, really not.”

Another song started, but this one was a slow tune, a romantic number that made her wonder if she should beg off, or …

He slipped his arms around her waist and started moving. Nothing fabulous, but also nothing uniquely styled. She found it easy to put her hands on his shoulders, to let her heartbeat slow.

“Adventures, huh?”

He shook his head a little. Met her gaze. “Of a sort.”

“Danny mentioned you’d gone to help out after the Indonesian tsunami.”

Nate nodded. “I did. I had skills, they needed help.”

“And now?”

“They still need it. A lot of people do. I work for an organization that sends me where I can do some good.”

Someone bumped her from behind, pushing her against Nate’s body from knee to chest. Her first instinct was to put space between them, but there was also something else going on that wasn’t the crowd and certainly wasn’t dancing. There was no way not to look at him, and he was watching her as if they were alone in the room. He’d felt the tension, that was clear. A frisson went through her, and he felt that, too.

Another bump, but this one parted them the way she hadn’t been able to.

He swallowed, glanced around at the crowd, then back at her. “I could use a drink after all that self-expression. Do you mind? Our table’s open. I can get us drinks.”

Thank goodness. She had no idea what the hell was up with those last few moments and she needed some space to get her breath back. “Great. White wine for me, please.”

“Rebel.”

She grinned. “That’s me.”

He walked her to the table and her smile faded as she watched him make his way to the bar. If he’d been anyone else, she’d have known what all that sizzle and smoke had been about. Any other guy. Part of her wanted to apologize and assure him she hadn’t meant to press against him so intimately. But since she had … No. That wasn’t at all what she wanted to tell him. She had no idea what she wanted to say. Mostly because she hadn’t been able to read him. For a moment, she’d thought … But that was ridiculous.

He’d been a hellion as a kid. Forever taking risks, talking big. It had gotten him into a lot of messes, and he’d dragged Danny along for most of those, but he’d always been welcome in the Fitzgerald home. Especially since his folks had worked such long hours.

She had to wonder if he were still reckless, ready to jump into crazy situations without a second thought. His work sounded like something to be proud of, but also dangerous. Although she had to consider she’d known only the boy, not the man. Fourteen years was a long time, and she sure wasn’t the girl she’d been back then. Or maybe she was. It was sometimes hard to tell.

While he was out of sight, she freshened her lipstick, practically the only thing she’d had room for in her purse aside from the small pen and notepad, a twenty and breath mints. Stupid little thing. At least the bridesmaid’s dress was nice. Not great, just a simple sleeveless sheath with a sweetheart neckline. In the past year alone, Shannon had been forced to wear five dresses that would never see the light of day again. At least this time she hadn’t been the maid of honor.

She suspected all her friends and relatives asked her because of her connections. Being in charge of sales and marketing for the printing plant meant she was on a first-name basis with almost every vendor from Chelsea all the way down to the Village.

“What’s that scowl about?”

Nate put down her glass as well as his big mug of beer, then sat across from her. It caused a stir inside her that was frankly inappropriate. Good grief, she had to get over this. What she should be excited about was putting him on a trading card. A man with his looks, his international lifestyle, his unforgettable dancing needed to be out there. And the good women of St. Marks lunch exchange needed a breath of fresh air.

He’d had a good haircut. Not overstyled, but neat. Whoever had had him on the chair understood that his high forehead was an asset, and that he could carry a longer sideburn than most.

“You’re good-looking,” she said. Then froze. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Grabbing his beer, he paused. “What’s that?”

Oh, what the hell. She was busy, he was busy, after tonight she probably wouldn’t see him again for another ten years. “You. I thought you were okay when you were in high school, but now you’re actually handsome.”

He fought a smile for a long minute. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome. Now, what was the good news you were supposed to tell me?”

“I’m moving in. With you.”

2

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.

3

SHE’D BEEN ONE OF THOSE kids who loved the limelight, who glowed when she danced and sang and posed. Nate had been roped into attending far too many of her recitals and pageants. He’d been bored out of his gourd, but he’d gone. He and Danny had done their best to cause trouble, and they’d usually succeeded. So it hadn’t been all for nothing. But she’d never swayed like that.

Shannon led him to Danny’s old room, where Nate had spent the night hundreds of times. She grinned as she pushed the door open, and he peeked before stepping in.

“A sewing room?”

“Not just a sewing room,” Shannon said, nudging him forward. “A library, a tea room, a knitting parlor and a quiet room. Mostly a place to escape from the heathens and their games.”

“I didn’t know your mother sewed. Or knit. Or read.”

“She’s … expanding her horizons,” Shannon said, although there was more to it than that if he correctly read her raised brows.

“Has she retired?”

“Yep, she still does the books for the plant when I’m swamped, but she decided when Brady took over as manager that she was going to spend time on things that weren’t cooking or cleaning.”

Speaking of, Danny’s clothes were spread over a very comfortable-looking recliner, what probably was a daybed when it wasn’t a mess of linens, and even over the doorknob of the closet. “At least one of your brothers hasn’t changed.”

Shannon leaned toward Nate and lowered her voice, her breath warm and sweet touching his skin. “He’s actually doing really well at the advertising firm. Don’t tell him I said so, but he’s good. He’s got a gift.”

Too busy inhaling her scent, he almost missed his cue. “Okay, I must be in the wrong house. You? Saying nice things about Danny?”

“It’s probably because I don’t see him very often. Absence makes my tolerance stronger.”

“I don’t think that’s how that saying’s supposed to go.”

“It’s true, though,” she said, eyeing the pile of yarn that had been pushed to the side. “Be warned. You won’t leave here without at least a half-dozen new wool scarves.”

“I’m working in Indonesia. The average yearly temperature is eighty degrees with ninety-percent humidity.”

“As if that’ll dissuade her. Oh, and they’ll be hideous colors, too.”

“I look forward to it.”

“No, you don’t,” she said as she went back to the hallway. “But you can give them away. They are definitely warm.”

“What about your room?”

“Mine? It’s still too small.”

“I’d like to see it,” he said.

For a long stretch of barely breathing, Shannon stared at him, her lips parted. Then she moistened them, the tip of her tongue taking a nervous swipe. “Why?” she asked finally.

“Why?” Shit, he felt as if he were twelve again, caught trying to snatch a peek at Mr. Fitz’s Playboy. “I’m curious about grown-up Shannon’s natural habitat.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’s two doors down.”

“I know.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, wondering if crashing here was the right decision. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford to stay in a hotel. Which was probably more convenient. The real problem was Shannon. He hadn’t expected her, not this version. “Is this going to be too weird?”

“What?” she asked, widening her eyes, but she didn’t fool him for a minute. Her pupils were dilated and the pulse at the side of her neck beat as fast as his own.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“Don’t be silly.” She laid a hand on his arm, then proved his point by withdrawing a moment too quickly. “We’ll practically have the whole floor to ourselves. Brady’s room is down the hall but he spends most nights at his girlfriend’s place.”

He had no business being so pleased about that last fact. No business at all.

FOR EVERYONE’S SAKE SHE HAD to snap out of this case of nerves and act naturally. So he wanted to see her bedroom. Not only was she making too much of it, but it also wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen it before. Usually with her screaming at him and Danny to get out and stay out, or yelling for her mom, or throwing something that was handy. But it wasn’t a little girl’s room anymore, and he wasn’t that Nate.

He paused as they reached her door. “It occurs to me I should have asked about this first. As in giving you warning, and not just, hey, I want to see your room.”

She smiled. “I’m not like the savages. My room is neat enough for surprise visits.” She saw the uncertainty flicker in his eyes, and she shrugged. “I think it’s going to take us all some time to adjust.”

He turned. “You think we’ll still like each other?”

“Still? I don’t think we ever liked each other,” Shannon said. “But then we were kids, and being my brother’s best friend, it was your duty to torment me.”

“And now?”

She looked into his warm, direct gaze and her body tightened. “Annoy me and I’ll short-sheet your bed.”

“Ah, so the room comes with maid service.” Nate grinned, making him seem more like the boy she remembered and she relaxed a bit.

“Dream on.” She moved to her closed door, her hand on the knob. “Go ask Mom about maid service. See what she says.”

Nate winced and acted as if he’d been wounded. “You are trying to get rid of me. I don’t know why your parents put up with me to begin with.”

“Because they’re big old softies. They don’t even ask for me or Brady to pay rent, and when I started paying them anyway, I discovered they were putting my checks into a savings account for me.”

“That’s nice.”

“My point exactly. With the benefit of hindsight, I believe they thought you needed the security of a big family.”

He smiled, but it was more out of pathos than anything else. “My folks tried. They did. They loved us. They didn’t have a gift for child rearing.”

“Then isn’t it good you had a backup plan?”

“Brilliant, even in third grade.”

“Now I’m seeing the old Nate.” She felt more like herself, as if they’d turned a corner. Not a huge one, but enough to start with. “So, ready for the reveal? God, it’s hard to admit I still live here, even though it’s becoming common again for people my age, no thanks to the recession.”

“I like that you do. You’ve always been connected to your clan. I envy that.”

“Depends on why I do it.” She opened her door and stepped back to let him in.

He didn’t go far, only a few steps, but she noticed he looked at everything. Her queen bed with the pastel sheets, the hint of lilac on the walls and in the reading chair. She wondered if he remembered the posters of all those boy bands, and Doogie Howser and Jonathan Taylor Thomas. Everything had been pink back then and had ruffles. There’d been a canopy, naturally, and stuffed animals. An entire display case of her tiaras and trophies from being Little Miss Gramercy Park and Little Miss Manhattan, and more than a dozen others. Some were still on display in the living room alongside the boys’ sports awards.

“I was right,” Nate said.

“About?”

“Your good taste. Although the room’s not quite the same without that framed picture of Leonardo Di-Caprio.”

“Who was all of fourteen at the time.”

He went to one of the pictures on the wall. It wasn’t anything fancy. She’d found it at a local art festival, and she’d spent more on the frame than the picture. It was an ordinary bedroom, small and neat, and filled with light. There was an open book on the bedside table, a shawl left draped on a big chair. It was cozy and quiet, not something she’d felt often growing up.

“I don’t spend a lot of time in houses anymore,” he said. “Or beds. I’m lucky to get a cot sometimes. I’ve even gotten used to hammocks.”

“What drew you away, Nate? Danny said you’d wanted to help after the tsunami, but he never said why.”

Nate turned, and he looked so good, so content. He was wearing jeans, a Henley shirt, boots. She could picture him doing errands, getting his hands dirty. But once he’d grown out of his terrible years, before he’d gone away, she remembered him as a reader. He’d liked architecture and didn’t seem unhappy that he was expected to follow in his father’s footsteps. She’d been surprised at his humanitarian streak.

That sounded kind of awful when she thought about it so bluntly, but she’d never seen him go out of his way much. Admittedly, her perspective had been limited.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think I was running to as much as I was running from.”

“Was it so bad?”

“No. It’s not as if I was abused or mistreated or anything like that. I don’t know. I guess I had read too many books about adventures. I wanted some of my own before I settled down.”

“From the looks of it you’re not done yet.”

“Nope. Not yet.”

“How will you know?” she asked. “When, you mean?” Shannon nodded.

“No idea. I don’t think too far into the future, to tell you the truth. Everything is so immediate and real in a way I have a hard time describing. It’s interesting to be back here, to shift my perspective.” He touched the edge of her bed. “I like your room. It’s calm, and it’s pretty, but there’s still you all over it.”

She would have liked to have asked him more about his other life, but she went with the program. “What do you mean, me all over it?”

He walked over to her dresser. “Playbills, perfume, ticket stubs, lectures. I’m surprised you didn’t end up on the stage. You loved it so much as a kid.”

“Some people would say I’ve made my life a stage.”

“What would you say?”

She waved the comment away with her free hand. “Sales, marketing. It’s all just acting, isn’t it? Anyway, I imagine Mom is getting antsy. We should go down.”

He nodded, but turned to take another sweeping look at her small room. “It’s home but it isn’t,” Nate said softly.

Shannon wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or himself. “What?”

“I’m glad I’m here. I’d forgotten I had memories I wanted to keep.”

“About New York?”

“No. This house. This family. You.”

“Me? I was the pain-in-the-ass Princess. What would you want to remember about that?”

“You were the prettiest little girl I’d ever known. By the time I was getting ready for NYU, you’d gotten even more beautiful. Now, you’re …”

She could feel the blush again and realized it was going to be a problem. “I’m …?”

He inhaled deeply. “We should go eat.” He walked past her and out the door.

Shannon touched her cheeks, willing them to cool off, wondering what had just happened.

NATE HAD WOKEN UP BEFORE the alarm. He’d adjusted to the time change, being in the Northern Hemisphere, and the sounds of the city. He hadn’t done as well with adjusting to the beds.

At the hotel he’d never found the sweet spot, so those nights had been crappy. Myles’s bed was even worse. It sagged in the middle, so no matter where he started, he ended up sinking, his back curving unnaturally. While in the hottest shower he could stand, he’d debated changing rooms after Danny left, but that would be weird seeing as it was now Mrs. Fitz’s sanctuary.

So, he’d work in a couple of massages while he was here. The shower had helped get the kinks out, but now he was running late. He finished shaving, then wiped the shaving cream away. Making sure the towel around his waist was secure, he opened the bathroom door and bumped right into Shannon.

He decided to ignore that his startled squeak was almost the same pitch as Shannon’s. “Sorry, sorry.”

She’d backed up a couple of steps, pulling the top of her robe together. “No, I just didn’t expect …”

Her gaze had gone from his face to his chest. And stayed there. He checked. The towel hadn’t fallen.

She let go of her robe to gesture at his body, at least from the neck down. “When did all that happen?”

He chuckled. He’d been a skinny kid, but he’d done a great deal of hard manual labor overseas, and when there were lulls, he kept himself ready. He returned her gesture, although his wave was focused more around the breast area. “When did all that happen?”

“Point taken,” she said, with an uneasy laugh. “But hey. Nice.”

“You, too.”

“Now go away. I need to shower.” She sounded friendly, unaffected, but he’d seen the telling blush as she pushed past him in a sudden hurry. “You better not have used up the hot water.”

“Would I do that to you?”

She turned, her gaze flickering to his chest before meeting his eyes. “Please.”

“Yeah, okay. But it wasn’t my fault. Have you ever slept in Myles’s bed? I kept waking up thinking I was being smothered.”

“So, no hot water left?”

“I wouldn’t linger if I were you.” He couldn’t, either. Not without embarrassing himself. Partly her fault, the way she’d looked at him.

Shannon sighed.

He accidentally brushed her arm. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more considerate. I will. I haven’t had to be for a while.”

She stared at the place he’d touched her, and when she looked up again, he knew he was in trouble. She was a very beautiful woman. Not a kid, not a teen. And he’d spent a few hours of sleeplessness thinking about how pale her skin was and if all her hair was as stunningly red. He’d felt weird about that last night, but not now. He wanted her, and he was pretty damn sure she wanted him right back.

She cleared her throat, then hurried into the bathroom and shut the door.

It was a problem. He had no idea what the ground rules were. Except that he had no business being half-hard standing in the hallway. He made it to Myles’s room in case Brady hadn’t gone to his girlfriend’s place last night, but Nate was acutely aware that the next door over was Shannon’s bedroom. That she was taking a shower right this minute. Naked. Pale. Her nipples would be pink.

Like the color of her blush. Shit.

“WAIT,” SHANNON SAID, pointing at Nate. “Come over here and stand in front of the fireplace.”

“Why?” He glanced at his watch.

“It’ll only take a second. I need a couple of pictures.”

He frowned at her, but he was moving in the right direction. “For what?”

“Neighborhood blog. No big deal, but I edit the damn thing and I need filler.”

“Wait a minute. What are you going to say?” He had reached the brick fireplace and placed his hand on the mantel.

She doubted he even realized he was posing, but she brought up her cell phone quickly, clicking as often as she could between flash charges. “You live a very adventurous and heroic life,” she said, moving a bit to her right to get another angle. Then she zoomed in even closer. He looked great in his dark suit, no tie, off-white shirt with the top button undone. She wished she could have gotten him in his towel this morning, but then again, she probably wouldn’t have been able to keep her hands steady.

She clicked again. “You’re a native son. It’ll make a great story.”

“How many people read this blog of yours?”

“Oh, a lot.”

“I’m not sure about this. There are people I don’t want to see. I was hoping to keep the visit quiet.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy to solve. I’ll run it after you’re gone. And I’ll make sure to say great things about your organization. I looked it up. You guys do fantastic work.”

“Yeah, we do. And they’ll appreciate the mention,” he said, then glanced at his watch again. “I’ve got to go.”

“Fine,” she said, stealing one last picture.

“But I get to read it, and if I don’t like it, you’re not going to run it.”

She wanted to argue, but it didn’t really matter. She could easily skip writing a piece for the blog. This session was about the trading cards. “Deal,” she said.

“Okay. See you tonight.”

“Maybe Molly’s?”

He smiled as he passed her. “Yeah, Molly’s sounds great.”

She watched him as he walked, still stunned at her reaction to his … to him. The thing was, she hadn’t expected the change. He’d been one of those narrow boys, no ass, no chest to speak of. Like most of her brothers. Myles hadn’t been that way, though, at least not after puberty hit. He’d gathered a harem when he got on the junior varsity football team, and that hadn’t all been due to padding.

But Nate, he’d had an average, if slim, silhouette the last time they’d been to the community swimming pool. He’d been seventeen, she’d been twelve, and she’d threatened to drown him if he continued to splash her with his stupid cannonballs.

He wasn’t average anymore. Not a muscle man, either, just, well, sculpted. Defined. Enough chest hair to be enticing instead of daunting, and those guns … who would have guessed?

She’d reacted. As any woman would. But being attracted to Nate seemed every kind of wrong.

She’d make his trading card first thing. Get him out on the market. It probably was good that she hadn’t taken a picture of his naked chest. There’d be a riot at St. Marks.

Her mother’s call from the kitchen snagged her attention, but a quick look at the clock got her moving. She had a huge day ahead, and now she was going to have to put together Nate’s card.

It was possible that would have to wait. The lunch group wouldn’t get together for another week. For now, she’d look at the pictures, make sure she had a winner. She hoped so. It would be difficult to come up with another excuse.

“I’ll have something at the plant,” Shannon said as she got her coat from the peg. “I’ll be in and out all day.”

“Don’t get doughnuts,” her mother said, popping up in the dining room. “Your father can’t say no.”

Shannon opened her mouth to object, then sighed. “How do you do that?”

“I’m your mother. You can’t keep secrets from me.”

“That’s what you think,” she said, putting her phone into her purse.

“You and Steven Patterson. Coney Island.”

Shannon froze. “What are you talking about?”

Her mother laughed. “Don’t try to fool me, missy.”

It was time for Shannon to leave before she started thinking about that tattoo and her face gave her mother more ammunition. She opened the door, but only made it halfway out.

“At least the tattoo wasn’t a tramp stamp,” her mom called out. “That would have been really embarrassing.”

Shannon closed the door behind her and blushed all five blocks to the subway.

NATE STOOD BEHIND THE barricade that separated the street from the construction zone. He had no idea how long he’d been standing, but when he sipped his coffee, it was lukewarm, leaning toward cold. The sign on the chain-link fence was as familiar to him as the sound of the cranes and earthmovers. Brenner & Gill. Even after he’d inherited half of the firm, the Brenner referred to his father, not himself. And in about fifteen minutes, he would be meeting with Albert Gill, his father’s partner.

Nate had known Albert most of his life. Yet he didn’t know Gill well. The basics, yes. His wife was Patty and he had two daughters, Melody and Harper. There had been Christmas dinners, because the Gills celebrated, and a couple of times they’d had Hanukkah dinners instead, even though Nate’s family were barely observant. But the families had never been friends. His father hadn’t had a gift for friendship, either. It was something of a miracle that he’d gotten married at all, given he preferred to be alone.

That’s how they’d found him. Slumped over his drafting table on a Monday morning. He’d died the Friday before sometime between seven and midnight. According to the coroner’s office, he’d gone quickly, hadn’t felt a thing.

Nate had come back for the funeral, but he hadn’t stuck around. It was a quiet business, and he’d been surprised to find that his mother and Leah had sat shivah for the whole week. Nate had worn a yarmulke, although he’d left it in the box by the door when he’d gone back to his hotel. His mother had made sure his old bedroom was left open for him, but he’d felt no need to stay.

And while he’d mourned his father, it wasn’t what he’d been led to believe was normal. Frank Brenner had been more of an idea than a dad. He showed up at the important events, paid for most of Nate’s college education, but their relationship had been about expectations and conditions. Since Nate had stopped even trying to be his father’s ideal son after graduation, there’d been very little left.

Now he would meet with Albert over lunch, and they’d have an awkward half hour when they tried to reminisce. Nate hoped their meal would be delivered quickly. Food would be an essential distraction until they got to the heart of the matter.

Albert wanted out. It was the details Nate didn’t know, the considerations. He wanted to read Albert as he spoke, figure out what he could before Nate met with his attorney.

There was a lot of money at stake. Building commercial crap paid well. The firm had a great reputation. But it wasn’t going to be close to a handshake deal. Albert had run the business. He’d made the deals, set the terms, got the financing. Nate’s father had designed the buildings, coordinated the construction plans. Albert had many, many friends. He was good with people and he was smart. No doubt he wanted a sizable amount.

What he’d get was his fair share. Nate headed to the restaurant, four blocks from the construction site, prepared to be read in return. He was up for it. He wasn’t afraid of much these days. Too much time spent facing reality.

He had to admit, though, he was looking forward to the game. He’d always liked chess.

4

DESPITE THE HORRIBLE DAY, as Shannon reached the entrance to Molly’s Pub, her pulse and breathing quickened. Nate was there already. He’d texted her ten minutes ago, which was a good thing, as she’d been so caught up in looking at the receivables she’d lost track of time.

He’d said not to worry, he was relaxing with a pint. She glanced at the window that announced with green lettering that this was Molly’s Shebeen before she opened the heavy wooden door.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, and there was Nate, sitting three booths from the wood-burning fireplace that was fed and stoked all winter. She hung up her coat, then went toward him, her excitement mounting.

It would be fun to talk to him, was all. She wasn’t even thinking about how he’d looked in that towel this morning. Okay, she was thinking a little about that, but she wasn’t dwelling. That would be wrong. Foolish. The minute she started truly contemplating Nate as more than a friend, things got uncomfortable. He was family, and while it wasn’t technically inappropriate, it was close enough to make her squirm.

His grin, however, made her light up. “Finally. I’m starving to death.”

“Why didn’t you order something, then?” she asked as she slid into the seat across from him.

“Because I’m polite.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re only polite when you want something. Is Danny coming?”

“Nope.” Nate took a swallow from his half-empty Guinness. “It’s just you and me.”

She picked up the menu although she didn’t need to look at it. Molly’s was literally just down the street from her house, and she’d been coming here long before she’d been legal. Not that they’d let her sit with the customers. She’d been escorted to the back room, where she’d been fed and given cold milk with her dinner, and no matter how she’d explained that in Ireland even kids got to drink beer, she was denied the pleasure until she’d hit her twenty-first birthday. Or so she’d have her family believe.

“How was your day?” she asked, content to listen to Nate all evening.

“Interesting.” He pulled out the New York Times classified section where he’d circled a bunch of listings. “It’s never not going to be insanely expensive to live in this city.”

“You’re right,” she said as she noticed Ellen coming over with two beers on a tray.

“How are you, Shannon?”

“Good, thanks.”

Ellen put a perfectly chilled and poured Guinness in front of her, then gave Nate another. “You two want food?”

“God, yes,” Nate said. “Cheeseburger with blue for me.”

Shannon started to order her regular spinach salad, but said, “The same for me, please,” instead.

Nate’s brow rose first, then Ellen’s.

“I’ve had a bad day. I’m hungry. So you can both be quiet.”

Ellen left, and Nate leaned forward, elbows on the table. “What happened?”

“Don’t want to talk about it. Tell me what you’ve found in the paper.”

“Ah,” he said, frowning at the real-estate section. “Everyone told me this is the best time to buy, because everything’s going for rock-bottom prices. Rock bottom of what? I can’t find a decent two-bedroom town house with an on-site manager for less than a million and a half.”

“It’s still Manhattan,” she said. “People keep coming, and they keep paying.”

“Crazy is what it is.” He looked up at her with wide eyes, and even in the dim amber light, she could feel his interest. In the conversation, of course. “Your house has got to be worth many millions. You could sell that sucker and retire tomorrow, all of you. Move somewhere, pretty much anywhere but London or Paris, and live like kings for the rest of your life. And if you sold the plant, too?”

“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen. The house has been with us for generations. We’re not about to let it go. Not the plant, either, dammit.”

His open mouth closed and his excited gaze turned to concern. “I didn’t mean anything by that,” he said. “I wasn’t serious.”

She drank some so she could get her equilibrium back. After she patted the foam off her upper lip, she smiled at him. “I know. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. As I said, bad day.”

“Did you eat lunch?”

Shannon blinked at him. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

“You used to get cr—out of sorts when you waited too long to eat. When we were kids.”

“I admit, I did get cranky years ago, and all right, yes, I probably should have eaten more today. How did you even remember that?”

“Funny, huh, what sticks?” He tapped his temple. “Let’s just say I have a lot of blackmail material stored away up here.”

She feigned covering her mouth for a cough that didn’t do much to hide her saying, “Underoos.”

“Ouch,” he said. “Although, I seem to recall a My Little Pony phase that went on for an incredibly long time.”

“Those were adorable. And very appropriate for a child my age.”

“I wasn’t wearing Underoos to high school, you know.”

“No, I didn’t,” Ellen said, and Shannon and Nate looked over at the grinning waitress. She put their silverware down and patted Nate on the head. “It’s good to have you back for a visit,” she said, then wandered off.

“I never realized how much the sawdust dampens sound,” Nate said.

“I imagine everyone in the bar will be talking about your underwear in the next couple of days.”

“And people wonder why I stay overseas.”

Shannon reached for a napkin. She did wonder why he’d stayed away. And why he was so keen on selling Brenner & Gill. But she didn’t want serious tonight. She wanted to relax with her … friend.

NATE WANTED TO PUT HIS ARM around Shannon as they walked back to the house. It was close to midnight, stupidly cold, and he was so drawn to her it was a bad joke. Instead, he kept his hands in his pockets and tried to stop watching her long enough to prevent walking straight into a streetlight pole.

“I shouldn’t have had that last beer,” Shannon said.

“No, you probably shouldn’t have.”

She slowed her step and bumped his shoulder with hers. “You had more to drink than I did.”

“We weren’t talking about me. I should have stopped after my second Guinness. But come on. Guinness. At Molly’s Shebeen. How am I supposed to resist that, hmm?”

“You’re right,” she said. “You were perfectly justified. I, on the other hand, was reckless and foolish. I should be ashamed.”

“Well, hell. If you’re going to waste shame on something like having an extra beer, you should give up right now.”

Her laughter warmed him like a hot toddy. “What, you want me to rob a bank? Steal a car? Have an illicit affair?”

“Those are all legitimately shame-worthy, yes. Although I never said that shame had to come along with a prison sentence. You still need to have good judgment. So that leaves illicit affairs.”

“I don’t have anyone to be illicit with.”

“No?”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him close. There wasn’t enough beer in Molly’s to slow down his heart.

“You almost walked into that pole,” she said as she released him.

“Damn, I thought—”

“What?” she asked, and he shook his head. “You thought what?”

“Nope.”

She studied him for a second. “Coward.”

“Yep.”

She laughed. “I could get it out of you if I wanted.”

“Hey, go for it. I welcome the challenge.” Suppressing a smile, he kept walking. She hated a dare, and he doubted that had changed.

“You have some nerve bringing up good judgment,” she muttered. “I’d like to know where you got your measuring stick.”

He had a totally juvenile remark at the tip of his tongue, which only proved how deeply irresponsible he’d been about the beer. Though the pole—that had nothing to do with drinking and everything to do with the illicit-affair remark. “Experience has taught me not to sweat the small stuff.”

This time Shannon stopped completely. “You must be drunk if you’re throwing that old clunker at me. How do you know what the small stuff is? One extra drink could be devastating.”

“But you’re not driving or operating heavy machinery. You’re walking a block to your home, and you’re safely accompanied by a man who knows how to kick the crap out of anyone who might try anything untoward. Therefore, you having a third beer isn’t a big deal.”

“What do you mean you know how to kick the crap out of anyone?”

“I have skills.”

He couldn’t see her smile in the shadow between streetlights, but he would swear on his life he could feel it.

“Would those be mad skills?” she asked in the most smart-ass, taunting voice he could imagine.

“They would,” he said, realizing that with every word he was digging himself a deeper hole.

“Of the martial-arts variety?”

“And if I said yes?”

She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “You still have every single comic you ever bought, don’t you?” Poke. “You store them in airtight containers and don’t let other humans touch them.” Poke. “You don’t have to rent your costume for Halloween. Ever.”

He grabbed her poking hand and walked her toward a streetlight until he was sure they could see each other well. “I do have a hell of a comic collection, which is worth a great deal, by the way. I do store some of them in a temperature- and humidity-controlled storage facility because of their value. I do not have costumes in my wardrobe, however. But I’ve been known to go to comic conventions and I keep up with the industry. I like comics. I like graphic novels. And someday, if you agree not be bitchy about it, I would like to show you why.”

There was a moment of silence. Not just from Shannon, but from the street, from the city. A fleeting lull in the traffic, the subway vibrations, the chatter of pedestrians. He heard her inhale, sharp and startled, as if the last thing in the world she’d expected was his little speech.

He was surprised himself, so that seemed fair. He’d had no preparation, though, for how she was looking at him. As if he was someone unexpected. Someone interesting in a way he shouldn’t be.

Good. That’s what he’d wanted. And if he hadn’t had the extra beer, he’d lean over right this second and kiss her until she cried uncle. But he was tipsy enough to know that he was treading on thin ice, illustrated perfectly by his use of the word tipsy.

Both of them having inappropriate thoughts didn’t mean the thoughts were no longer inappropriate. He had one place he considered home in this world, and to risk that, he’d have to be sober as a judge and twice as sure.

“I’d like that,” she said, her voice a breathless whisper in the quiet. “A lot.”

“Yeah?”

Her nod was slow but it still made that gorgeous hair of hers move forward on her shoulder. He raised his hand, but the last vestiges of good sense stopped him from carrying out the gesture. He was going to be at the Fitzgeralds’ for several weeks. There would be time to figure things out. Time to see where the lines were drawn.

The last thing on earth he wanted was to be ashamed about anything to do with Shannon. So tonight, he’d walk her home and he’d sleep it off.

Tomorrow he might curse himself for letting this chance go by, but better safe than sorry when there was so much at stake.

Dammit, he was going to wake up to his second hangover in two days. The sooner he got back to his real life the better off he’d be. He looked again at Shannon as they reached the steps of the brownstone. Then again, as long as he had to be here, he might as well enjoy the visit.

SHANNON HADN’T SEEN NATE at breakfast, and she was almost late because she’d dawdled, hoping. Then she’d castigated herself the whole way to the plant. Last night hadn’t been a date. She wasn’t sure precisely what it had been, but not a date.

Despite the extra beer, she’d stayed up far too late. Her brain wouldn’t stop. Thoughts of his voice, his scent, how he looked in a suit were only the beginning. She imagined vividly his friendly touch on the small of her back sliding past her waist until his palm slowly brushed over the curve of her behind.

A smile, then as his gaze hit her lips, the heat of his breath, the brush of a tentative kiss.

An innocent look turned smoldering, unmistakable want.

By the time she’d entered her office, she knew her first order of business wasn’t going to be a call to the deputy commissioner in charge of Union Square Park. That and everything else on her list would wait while she turned her total attention to creating Nate’s trading card. Maybe then she could stop obsessing.

He was going to be staying at the house for several weeks at least, and wouldn’t it be nice and smart to hook him up with one of her friends from the lunch exchange? He’d be otherwise occupied while she pulled a new card or two for herself. The next lunch exchange meeting was coming up soon, and she had six new trading cards to prepare including Nate’s.

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