Why take a bite of the Big Apple when there’s bachelor Luca Paladino?

Luca Paladino is moving into his Little Italy apartment now, and nothing—not even incomplete renos—will stop him. Well, except maybe for the incredibly sexy redheaded stranger he finds standing in his unfinished bedroom. In her underwear. Who is tempting him beyond all belief…

April Branagan’s been in New York for exactly a minute, and she’s already been swindled. Fortunately, she’s talked the extra-hunky-with-a-side-of-abs bachelor into letting her stay in his apartment—in return for helping out. But when April and Luca’s sexual attraction goes from a simmer to full-on piccante, their little deal turns into a whole lot more than either of them bargained for!

“You’re driving me crazy…”

Luca gave April a slight tug but it was enough to bring her too close.

He stared at her as if she was made of secrets. “Do you have any idea—” he said, his words so low she might have missed them if she hadn’t been just inches away. He opened his mouth once more, only to pull her into a searing kiss.

Oh, God. His lips, warm, urgent, on hers. His arms suddenly wrapped around her, holding her tight. His tongue seeking entry, teasing her to open her mouth.

All coherent thought vanished. It was what she’d wanted since the second night. This kiss, this heat, this urgency between them.

She tasted a hint of wine and something that belonged to Luca. Him. His scent, his hard body pressing against her, his erection growing and pulsing between them.

He wasn’t her dream man, he couldn’t be, not after all that had happened. She knew better than to believe that fairy tale. But he sure kissed like him.

His guttural moan was so intimate and erotic…and April knew she wasn’t going to be the one to say no.

Dear Reader,

Now, here’s a real welcome to New York: a long bus trip, stolen savings, breaking and entering (well, not so much breaking), a looming arrest and meeting the hero for the first time in nothing but your bikini panties!

That’s April Branagan’s first day in the Big Apple.

Lucky for her, she’s crash-landed at Luca Paladino’s new apartment. Somehow she convinces him to let her stay. Then he can’t bear to see her go! But things get complicated when Luca tries a little too hard to help fiercely independent April, and it almost tears them apart. In the end, though, love saves the day. Thank goodness.

I hope you enjoy the second book in my NYC Bachelors miniseries! Look for the final book in the trilogy, madly handsome Dominic’s story, coming in April 2017!

Oh, and did I tell you I was in Little Italy last October? After writing this book I’m more than ready to go again. I ♥ NY!

Ciao,

Jo Leigh

Daring in the City

Jo Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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 houseful of rescued cats and dogs? What the heck, she says, predictability is boring. Jo has written more than forty-five novels for Harlequin. Find her on Twitter, @jo_leigh.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

The Paladino Legacy

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Extract

Copyright

The Paladino Legacy

IN THIS GENTLY reimagined tale of Little Italy, the Paladino family has lived in their house on Mulberry Street in Little Italy since 1910. When Antonio Paladino, the brothers’ great-great-grandfather cobbled together some money working as a skilled mason, the first thing he did with it was buy property.

By the time Joseph Paladino had his three sons, the Paladinos owned a great deal of what is now the very heart of Little Italy. The Paladino Trust had been set up years ago to protect the properties and the family’s privacy in the hope of preserving Little Italy. Each of the three sons owns property within the Trust, comprised of both commercial businesses and housing.

But none of the family has any intention to sell. The people in the tight-knit community have no idea that the Paladinos are their landlords, hidden behind the name that had been assigned to the Trust. They believe they have a rent-control situation that keeps their rents reasonable—unlike the rest of the newly gentrified Lower East Side of Manhattan.

1

“WATCH IT!”

Luca followed his brother’s gaze across the gutted floor of the Grasso home and let out a breath. “It’s okay. She’s got it.”

“She almost hit Frankie with that beam,” Tony said.

“She did not. You’re just worried because she’s a girl.”

“Hey, up yours. You know better than that.”

Luca laughed. If his brother didn’t know when he was screwing around by now, then that was his problem. Luca had enough of his own.

“Whoa, is that the famous Tony Paladino?” Sal’s booming voice came from behind them, and they both turned around. “What’s got you in a hard hat, boss? You felt like slumming today, or what?”

“I thought I’d take a break from the office. That okay with you?”

Sal grinned and slapped Tony on the shoulder. “I’m just messing with you. I bet you came by to check up on my niece. The girl’s got chops,” he said, glancing over at her. “Carlita’s still green but she’s gonna do a good job.”

“I’m not worried,” Tony said and ignored Luca’s snorting laugh.

“Yeah, I know,” Sal said. “I heard that you’re too busy looking for wedding rings to bother with remodels.”

Luca turned on Tony. “You’re looking for rings? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Tony took off his hard hat and ran a hand through his hair. “One ring,” he said, shaking his head. “I saw a ring in a window and I asked about it. That’s it. What I want to know is who’s spying on me and shooting off their mouth?”

Luca, along with Sal and several others on the construction crew laughed. As if anyone could get away with anything in their tight-knit neighborhood. Gossip ran like wine through Manhattan’s Little Italy and no one was safe.

“Hey, Tony, while I’ve got you here,” Sal said, “I’m going to change the schedule on the Hester Street apartments. We’ve got two vacancies there so we can go in and take care of the plumbing before they’re occupied again.”

Tony nodded, and Luca thought about the last time he’d been the subject of gossip—way back during his junior year at Columbia when he’d bought his first motorcycle and rode it home one weekend. Pretty lame as far as gossip went. But when had he had time to get into any real trouble?

What was supposed to have been five years of hitting the books, partying and hooking up—not necessarily in that order—had been interrupted by Tony’s rocky marriage, their dad’s first heart attack and the damn recession that had slowed construction in the city down to a trickle.

Luca left Tony talking to Sal, the project manager in charge of several of their remodels. After a quick word with Frankie, who was taking measurements for the drywall, Luca thought about his brother ring shopping. It made sense.

After their father’s second heart attack, Tony had taken over the company so smoothly there hadn’t been a single complaint. Somehow he’d managed to stay on top of his new responsibilities. At the same time, he’d fallen hard for Catherine. They were perfect for each other. Luca could definitely see them getting married soon.

Luca wished his future was a little more certain. At thirty, he’d managed to complete his architecture degree and a year’s credit toward his required three-year internship, he had a good job working for the family business and a steady income. He knew he was luckier than most people in every way that counted. But that didn’t stop him from feeling somewhat adrift.

His folks were so proud of the idea of his becoming a “big-deal architect” that he couldn’t imagine what they would think if they knew what he really wanted to do was focus on his carpentry. And not just the finishing work he did for the business, but the custom pieces he made on the side.

Right now Paladino & Sons had great opportunities doing remodels and renovations all over Lower Manhattan. But with an in-house architect, they could expand into a whole new market—public buildings, chain stores and even military contracts. Jobs that, while they wouldn’t offer much creativity, would bring a major increase in cash flow and, more important, steady work for their stable of loyal construction crews.

Presently, Luca had the last two years of his required internship lined up at a prestigious firm, after which he’d be eligible for his professional license. His family was counting on him.

“Hey.”

Luca hadn’t seen his brother walk up to him. “What’s up?”

“That’s what I was gonna ask you,” Tony said. “You seem distracted. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Everything’s fine. Just, uh... I’ve asked a couple of guys from the Sanders project to come help me move some stuff to the Mercury Building.”

“What stuff?”

“Mostly equipment and tools, but some of my personal stuff, as well. I’m moving into the apartment while I do the renovations.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose pretty damn high. “Now?”

“Yeah, now. Angelo finished putting in the new pipes, the electrical is done and I’ve started busting down walls. So I’ll live upstairs while I work on the downstairs.” In accordance with the Paladino Trust—the one that decreed no one but the immediate family could know that the Paladinos owned a great deal of real estate in the Little Italy area and kept the old timers’ rents ridiculously low—Luca had claimed one of the two-story apartments on the top floor of the family-owned building.

Tony shook his head. “What about your internship?”

“The offer’s open-ended,” Luca said. “It’ll still be there when I’m ready.”

Tony frowned. “When you’re ready? You’ve been ready for years.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Except he kind of did, and that was the problem. Tony knew about his side job. But Luca doubted either of his brothers understood just how much he loved working with his hands. And his parents? Forget about it. They’d short-circuit. Tell him he was wasting his smarts and his education.

The thing was they wouldn’t be wrong. Damn, he felt bad about spending all that money for an Ivy League education. He really did. Ironically, it had taken all those years of school to make him realize that being an architect wasn’t what he wanted to do with his life.

“You realize I can handle things without you, right? The company won’t fold while you step back.” Tony bumped his shoulder. “Besides, you know how much government work we’re missing out on while we wait for you?”

“Look, I don’t want to get into a big discussion about this.” Now who couldn’t take a joke? He knew Tony was teasing but he’d hit a sore spot. “I can’t live with the folks anymore, okay? Now that Dad’s home all the time, they’re always bickering. It’s not even that, though. I haven’t lived on my own for a long time. I barely date, because I’m not about to bring a woman back to their place. I’m feeling pressure to get married already, and I just need some room to breathe. I mean, how am I supposed to ever hook up? Keep a room at the Marriott?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, that’s true. You only had, what, two years of living on your own at college? I was all caught up in trying to patch things up with Angie when you moved back home. You really stepped up, man. Took care of the folks. Helped out more than your share with the company.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not complaining.”

“I know.” Tony shook his head. “You seeing anyone now?”

“You mean other than the women Mom and Nonna keep shoving at me?”

“Wait. Are you getting laid at all?”

“Do I look like a guy who’s getting laid?” he said, realizing he should’ve kept his voice down. “That’s why I have to get out of there. I have a date next week, one I arranged, so hopefully...”

“All right, I see your point. A year after I got divorced they started harassing me about getting married again.”

“I remember. And now that you have Catherine they’ve started going after me. So, yeah, thanks for that.”

Tony laughed. “Look, if you want to take some time off to get situated, we’ll be fine. I’m ready to get out of the office more so I can step in, and Dom’s doing great.”

Luca knew his contribution to the company wasn’t exactly crucial. The employees and subcontractors they had were top-notch. His brothers could easily carry his load. The only thing that would actually make a difference in their collective future was his becoming licensed.

If only being an architect was what he really wanted.

“And after that,” Tony said, “think about taking a step back from the company and pouring yourself into that internship at Willingham. We all had to regroup when Dad got sick, but it’s not fair to hold you back when all you’ve got is two more years of interning before you start your dream career.”

Dream career? Luca kept his expression neutral, not wanting to worry his brother. But why the hell couldn’t he have figured this stuff out before he’d returned to school?

Deep down he’d probably known then he was on the wrong track. But by that time Tony was in the middle of his divorce and understandably distracted. It had fallen to Luca to take his dad to all his doctors’ visits. Interpret what the doctor was saying. His mom had been worried sick and sometimes she got things confused.

Add to that the responsibility of managing the Paladino Trust when so many of their tenants had been hit hard by the downturn in the economy, and his life hadn’t been his own. The rest of his family had done what they could but it hadn’t been easy.

It certainly wasn’t how he’d imagined his college years being. Not that he would do anything different if he had to do it over again. Family was family.

But this was going to be his time. He’d act crazy if he wanted. Bring home a different woman every night, although that wasn’t like him. The point was the apartment would be all his and he could do whatever he pleased.

Still, the fact remained that everyone was counting on him to get his license and expand the business, but his true passion lay elsewhere.

“I don’t mean to tell you what to do,” Tony said, his dark brows furrowed. “I’m just—”

“Good. You can stop talking. What part of ‘I don’t want to get into a big discussion about this’ did you not hear?”

“Wiseass.” Tony chuckled. “You better be careful. Once you start fixing up your apartment, the matchmaking will get even worse. And now Pop’s on his ‘wanting grandkids’ kick.”

“I know. At least I won’t have to listen to them anymore every morning over coffee.”

“I get it.” Tony nodded. “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s the fate of all Paladino sons. I heard Nonna has started in on Dominic. Can you imagine?”

“As if he doesn’t already have a parade of women knocking at his door.”

Tony nodded. “Face it, Luca. You’re screwed.”

Tony didn’t know the half of it.

2

“WES, WHERE ARE YOU?” If only April Branagan had been able to sleep, maybe she wouldn’t feel so awful about Wes not calling her back over the last twenty-nine hours. “I’m on the bus. We’re pulling out of the station. This is it. I’m really on my way. I know everything’s probably fine, but please, whatever you’re doing, call me, okay? I want to try to get some rest before I reach Manhattan.”

She hung up the phone and made sure she didn’t need to plug it into the handy power outlet beside her seat. In fact, this would have been a very enjoyable ride if she hadn’t been up for almost two days, and if she’d heard from a certain someone who was supposed to be meeting her at the other end.

The trip from St. Louis to the Port Authority in New York would take over twenty-six hours, with eight stops and a transfer in Chicago. She’d planned to sleep most of the way, but instead, she was a nervous wreck.

To make things worse, the guy sitting across the aisle from her—a thirtysomething travel writer typing on his laptop—kept staring at her legs, which was making her uncomfortable. Until she realized she was jiggling her foot. Probably shaking the whole row.

She stopped. Gave him a conciliatory smile. Heard him hit the keyboard again as she watched her hometown disappear street by street.

By the time they’d gone ten miles, her mind had gone right back to worrying. Where the hell was Wes? Her ex-boyfriend/current business partner had gone ahead to New York to settle their living arrangements and meet up with some college friends who lived in Manhattan and had the connections she and Wes needed to get their fledgling concierge business off the ground.

Their last conversation had been great. He’d been excited about seeing her and showing her the temporary apartment he’d found for them. So why wasn’t he picking up?

The guy across the aisle was gathering up his things. One glance told her she was the reason. He stood, taking the time to give her an evil look.

Ah. Her leg was bouncing again. “Sorry,” she said, but he didn’t respond. At least now she had the row to herself.

Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a bit?

That lasted about two minutes.

Wes had managed to get an amazing deal on a place in Nolita, which, she’d quickly learned, meant the area north of Little Italy, in a building that was being remodeled. It was just a small room and a bathroom on the second floor of an empty apartment, but it was cheap, belonged to a friend of a friend and, well, they didn’t need all that much in the way of luxuries. The biggest problem would be the sleeping arrangements.

Wes knew their relationship was and would remain strictly business. They’d actually been over for a while. April knew he’d hoped the break they’d taken would only be temporary, but she had to wonder if he wasn’t answering because he knew her mind was made up and he was pissed about it. Although he’d had plenty of time to tell her he didn’t want to move forward with their business plans. She figured there had to be a good reason why he hadn’t been in contact, and she couldn’t help but worry that he’d been in an accident, or the victim of a mugging—or worse.

She stopped herself. No use sending herself into more of a tizzy. She’d find out what was going on soon enough.

At their stop in Chicago, she ordered a croissant and a large double espresso venti from a kiosk in the bus terminal then added a double-chocolate brownie and a blueberry muffin. She’d probably gain ten pounds before she even got to the most amazing restaurant city in the world.

The transfer to the new bus went smoothly, but it also meant the end of no neighbors. This time a lady wearing a Chicago Bears hat sat in the seat right next to her, pulled out a paperback book, then turned to face April. “I’m Lorene. Lorene Patrick. I’m going all the way to Toledo, and it’s my first time there. But I’ve got a job waiting for me. And my friend, Kiki, she’s letting me share her apartment until I can find a place of my own. Where are you headed?”

April stuffed half her muffin into her mouth, just to give her time to adjust to this new situation. Her first thought was to move seats immediately, but then she thought that Lorene might be the distraction she needed.

She was wrong. So very wrong. Lorene ended up talking her ear off for the next three hours before enough people had left the bus that April could finally claim a new seat. The first thing she did was call Wes. Of course he didn’t answer. She’d already sent three stealth texts while Lorene had been talking. And talking.

By now April wanted to strangle him. “Goddamn it, Wes. Where are you? Why aren’t you answering? Do I really have to call every hospital in New York to make sure you’re still alive? You’d better have a damn good excuse for this bullshit. I’m giving you one more hour, and then I’m going to call the police.”

The worst thing about cell phones was the inability to smash down a receiver. She made do by punching the disconnect button five times. It didn’t help.

April turned toward the window and stared at the lights of South Bend, feeling disembodied. She was so incredibly tired. But closing her eyes just revved her mind up into a spiral of one terrible thought after another.

When her phone actually rang, it made her jump so hard the thankfully quiet woman next to her jumped, too. Fumble-fingered, April finally saw that it wasn’t Wes calling. It was her mother.

She pasted a smile on her face, a trick she’d learned working as a waitress. Smiling through terrible situations made them less terrible. And tended to disguise her voice enough that it might earn her a tip. “Hi, Mom.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” her mom said. “You hardly got a wink of sleep the last couple of days.”

“I’m awake now. Don’t worry. I slept all morning. Besides, I should be worrying about you. Did Cassie get all her stuff inside? Are the kids settled yet?”

“It’s all coming together. I’ve put everyone to work, so we’ll be done by suppertime. But tell me about your trip. It must be so exciting. Is Wes calling you every twenty minutes?”

“Yeah, sure. Wes is beside himself waiting for me to arrive. He’s got the apartment all ready and everything.”

Her mother didn’t respond right away. “April Michela Branagan, are you telling me the truth?”

“Mom, it’s fine. I’m just tired, that’s all. Too much excitement, not enough room to burn off my nervous energy.”

April glanced at the woman next to her, who didn’t even pretend not to be eavesdropping. She turned to the window again and asked her mother to tell her about how the rest of the family was doing.

Her mom and dad had a full house once more. With five kids—only two of them still in school—her folks never did seem to get any peace. Her sister’s husband had left her, and Cassie couldn’t take care of her kids and afford a place on her salary, so they’d gone where all the Branagan kids seemed to wind up. Back home. God knew where everyone was sleeping. What a mess. Four kids, plus two sets of grandkids meant there was no vacancy at the inn. Which was a little scary for April, considering her business partner wasn’t calling her back.

But even if something bad had happened, she wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of this plan of theirs. She’d worked too hard, scrimped and saved every dime, to make her dream come true. Whatever was going on with Wes, she’d handle it. She’d make it work. She was good like that. Her dad called her the most determined girl in the whole Midwest. Which was true. Although it was easier to be determined when she wasn’t dizzy from not sleeping and she knew what the hell was going on.

“Listen to me, sweetheart,” her mom said. “I know how much you want this, and how hard you’ve worked, but if things don’t turn out like you planned, you know you can always come home. New York can be overwhelming. The goal you’ve set for yourself isn’t as simple as finding a job. Don’t listen to your father and your brother. Coming home doesn’t mean you’re a failure. So please promise me that if it gets to be too much, you’ll come back.”

Tears collected in the corners of her eyes. It would be a failure. She believed that with all her heart. She was going to be the first in her family to actually make it. On her own. She’d do whatever it took, no matter what—after she strangled Wes, of course. She’d make it in New York, all right. “Of course, Mom,” she said, her voice a little rougher than she would’ve liked. “I promise.”

* * *

APRIL STARED UP at the Mercury Building and then at the apartment key in the palm of her hand. Wes had mailed the key to her at the very last minute and she hadn’t thought to question it. How could she have been such a fool? Why would she need a key if he had intended to meet her at the bus station?

After she’d arrived at the Port Authority and saw Wes wasn’t there waiting for her, she hadn’t bothered to call him again. She’d simply slipped on her backpack, collected her heavy rolling suitcase and her enormous nonrolling duffel bag and managed to navigate the subway without bursting into tears.

She double-checked the address to be sure she was at the right place before lugging everything through the building’s darkened entranceway, praying the whole time that the key would actually fit the lock of apartment 4A. The first thing she saw was an out-of-order sign taped to the elevator door.

With a small whimper, she started up the stairs. The next problem—she couldn’t possibly take both bags at the same time. She’d fall and kill herself before she’d tasted a single slice of real New York pizza.

Making sure no one was watching her, she stashed the duffel in a tight shadowed alcove. She figured it would take her five minutes to get everything else upstairs and then she’d race back to get the bag. It was her only option at this point.

What felt like several hours later, she finally made it to the fourth floor.

Thankfully, the key worked. It was actually someone else’s apartment, unoccupied and filled with construction equipment. Soon enough she found the staircase that led to the room Wes had rented.

Her last shred of hope that this was all one great big misunderstanding disappeared when she entered the room.

Of course Wes wasn’t there.

She could tell because the room wasn’t very large and the closet door was open. There were no clothes in it. None. Zero. In fact, the only things in the room were an unmade mattress with a mess of sheets balled up in the middle, a pillow with no case and a microwave on the window ledge sitting next to a coffeemaker.

Sticking out from beneath the sheets was an envelope with her name printed on it in Wes’s handwriting.

Her hand trembled as she slipped out the letter. The black pit of anxiety in her stomach had her feeling nauseated to the point of checking how many steps it was to the bathroom down the hall. At least the toilet seat was up in case she had to make a run for it. She took a deep breath and looked down at the letter.

I’m really sorry. I’ll pay you back every penny. I swear.

The paper floated away as her legs refused to hold her up for another second. She missed the mattress, falling down hard on her knees on the wood floor. It was so much worse than even her nightmare scenarios. He was gone. Actually gone. With her money.

He’d left her in a strange city, in a weird apartment, with a business plan but no partner. He was supposed to handle all the tech. All the research into companies and potential workers. Background checks, safety records. Databases and money exchanges, so they’d bank a piece of every single job they matched. Their business was meant to be like a hotel concierge service complete with guaranteed safety checks.

And he’d disappeared. Ditched her without so much as a warning.

How could he have done this to her? They’d been lovers.

Her head dropped into her hands, and there was no holding back the great racking sobs. Not just because he’d stolen her money, but because she couldn’t...

God, the expectations of her family had been so important to her, ever since she’d excelled in high school. Before that, really. From a young age, her father had called her The Great Branagan Hope to whoever would listen. He’d laughed, but she knew he’d meant it. The nickname was hauled out with every A, every award, every success she’d earned.

And she’d been brought to her knees on her first day of what was supposed to be her greatest venture yet.

The humiliation was as hard to swallow as the betrayal. She was dizzy by the time she got control of her sobbing. But she hadn’t stopped shaking. And it was only then that she remembered she’d left her other bag downstairs.

She took a minute to gain her balance after she stood. When she could walk, she went into the bathroom to wipe her face. Instead of finding a towel, she found toilet paper sitting on the floor. With exactly four sheets left on the roll.

She’d find that son of a bitch, and she’d kill him.

Finally, she started making her way back down the four flights of stairs. It wasn’t until she hit the second floor that she noticed a crowd had gathered on the sidewalk.

Two policemen were standing near the broken elevator, their flashlights shining exactly where she’d left her bag. The distorted sounds of their walkie-talkies made her stomach churn.

Hell. She’d been gone too long. They’d found her unattended bag. In New York City. Great. At least there’d be plenty of toilet paper when she was shipped off to Gitmo.

She flew down the stairs. “Wait, wait. That’s my bag. I couldn’t carry it up with my other giant suitcase and I only meant to leave it for a second but my business partner stranded me and took all my savings. But I swear there’s nothing dangerous inside, and I can tell you every single item in there. Just please don’t send me to jail.”

The two cops stared at her, their hands close to their weapons.

“Honestly,” she said, trying to catch her breath, but since her chest was squeezing her lungs flat, it wasn’t easy. “My name is April Branagan, but the name tag on the duffel is Eloise Wooster. I borrowed it from my aunt. You can call her if you want, and she’ll confirm it. I didn’t want to use my name and address because this is a temporary rental, so if it got lost, it could have been lost forever, and it’s got all my underwear and a lot of my business clothes.

The good-looking cop put up his hand, stopping her. “Look, we have no choice about this. Any unattended bag left under suspicious circumstances requires a protocol—”

“But it’s not suspicious. I swear. I’m standing right here, and if you unzip it even just a tiny bit, I can tell you what you’ll find.”

“This is a residential building,” the shorter cop said. “A lot of people could be at risk.”

She looked at him. Then at Hot Cop. Then at all the people who seemed way more interested in the drama than the danger, and she burst into tears. Big, sloppy sobs she had no control over. This was the worst day of her life, and it was becoming more horrifying by the minute.

“You can’t tell my mom, okay,” she said, crying the words. “I told her I was fine. That I could handle this. She can’t afford bail or a flight from St. Louis, not when Cassie’s just moved back with her kids.”

“Just look in the effin’ bag,” someone from the crowd said.

She wasn’t sure who it was, but it was so nice, it made her cry even harder.

“Yeah, give the girl a break,” someone else, a woman, said.

“You think pretty girls can’t be terrorists?”

She thought she might throw up. As it was, her nose was running and, of course, she didn’t have any tissues with her. “There’s an outside pocket,” she said, snorting disgustingly. “There are tissues in there, and—” She hiccupped.

Hot Cop said something she couldn’t hear to his partner, who pulled up his walkie-talkie, turned away from her and started to speak. She couldn’t hear what he said, either, but she figured he was calling the bomb squad and she’d end up at Rikers Island, just like on Law & Order.

Then Hot Cop bent next to her bag. He unzipped the side pocket and pulled out the little pack of tissues, showing it to his partner, who nodded.

As she was blowing her nose, which took most of the pack, Hottie unzipped the duffel. He held up the flap so she couldn’t see and said, “Tell me what’s in here.”

“A pink bra and panties, and a white bra and thong, and four more panties—yellow, green, white and lilac—and under that is my kimono robe and then my sleep shirt with the bunnies on it, and the red one with the black lace—”

He pulled out each item, holding them up one at a time to show his partner. And the rest of New York, who seemed to be four deep on the sidewalk, cheering. Hooting. Whistling.

That was when she caught all the phones. Was there even one person who wasn’t filming this? With her face looking as if it had gone through a gang initiation and her thong swinging on Hot Stuff’s finger?

She sat down on the bottom step of the stairs. Put her head in her hands. All her energy abandoning her in one exhale.

The shorter cop suddenly loomed in front of her. “I still need to file an incident report,” he said then glanced back. “Vinny, why don’t you clear the area.”

Vinny—mercifully taking leave of her duffel bag—stood, gave her a smile that looked a little too much like a leer and then the other officer started firing questions at her. Which was way, way better than the alternative.

3

LUCA DIDN’T GET back to his new place until just after 8:00 p.m. It had turned blustery, and he rubbed his cold hands together as he entered the Mercury Building.

He’d told his folks about his plans. Of course they’d known he was moving out, but they were as surprised as Tony had been about his decision to put off the internship.

Naturally, they’d argued. When did they not argue? But their reaction was what he’d expected. They, like Tony, weren’t thrilled, mostly because they’d believed he wanted that architecture license more than he did. Still, two years was a long time to commit to a life that he wasn’t certain about.

At the moment, however, his family was the last thing he wanted to think about.

Finally. He had his own place. Tomorrow his bed and wide-screen TV would be delivered, which meant tonight he needed to make sure the path was clear to the stairs. The guys who’d helped him take over the scaffolding and supplies hadn’t been choosy about where things landed.

He saw that the elevator was in service again, but he took the stairs anyway, breathing in the mingled scents of the city and hints of the lives lived down the hallways of each floor. The second and third floors had three apartments each, all occupied. The fourth floor had two exceptional apartments—each of which had two levels.

And now that the annoying Wes was gone, Luca could finally start remodeling—after he got rid of all the guy’s shit. At least he’d vacated early. That was the main reason Luca had pushed up his move-in date.

Walking into his new home gave him goose bumps. Maybe it was stupid, but he’d waited a hell of a long time for this moment. It would have been great to stay over tonight, but not without a bed. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

Freedom. Silence. No surprise neighborhood women showing up at dinner. No more playing arbiter among his mother, his father and his grandmother when they got into arguments about what shows to watch on cable. No more questions about where he went at night, who he was with. Was it a girl? Was he being careful?

His first stop, the Sub-Zero fridge he’d had no business installing this soon. All that was left of the old kitchen was the sink and a section of the Formica countertop. He’d have to be careful or risk scratching the stainless steel, but this way he’d have cold beverages while he was working on the place. He’d put a case of beer in there this morning, and he grabbed one now.

After two gulps, he put in his earbuds and tuned his cell phone radio to ESPN, then got down to business putting the tools where they belonged and separating the wood from the drywall.

Hell, the remodel wasn’t even going to take that long. Three months max, he decided. He still had to knock down the wall between the master bedroom and the guest room upstairs to give him the space he wanted. But he didn’t foresee a problem with that. He figured he could get the place in decent enough shape before his date next week. It didn’t have to be perfect.

He’d met Jillian at Columbia when they’d both been studying architecture. She was currently serving her internship so she was used to the different phases of construction.

Tomorrow, after he got rid of Wes’s crap, he’d make a decision about the wall. And then he’d bring over some clothes and other personal stuff.

His stomach grumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since lunch. Removing his earbuds, he placed a call for a large pepperoni to be delivered. Having a slice and drinking a beer felt like a christening of sorts. Getting laid would’ve made the inauguration perfect. He hoped next week panned out. He got itchy just thinking about it.

Ten minutes later he thought he heard the buzzer, but no way the pizza was there that fast. He yanked out his earbuds again, and just as he figured he’d been imagining things, a scream tore into his bubble like a gunshot.

He didn’t even think, just grabbed the crowbar sitting on a pile of rags, his heart racing. It occurred to him that the scream didn’t sound like a help-I’m-being-assaulted scream. Although his only experience as far as that went came from TV or movies.

He moved closer to the door. Another scream, this time louder.

Shit. It was coming from inside his apartment.

Luca glanced up the stairs. Goddamn Wes Holland hadn’t moved out. Or he had, but he’d left a woman behind.

Not taking any chances on what he might find, and cursing himself for doing his friend a favor by letting his buddy move in, he started up the staircase. As he moved stealthily down the hallway he heard her shouting, but he couldn’t make out many of the words. “Fucker” came in the clearest, followed by “bastard” and “shithead.”

The closer he got to the door, the more words he could understand, but none that explained what was actually going on. He also didn’t hear anyone shouting back.

He waited at the edge of the door, finally able to make out all of what she was saying.

“How the hell does promising to pay me back do me any good? Am I supposed to believe you, after this?”

The tears and desperation came through loud and clear.

“That was almost all of my savings. I’ve worked for years for that money, and you know it,” she said. “I hate you so much right now. You’re such a coward, you won’t even pick up. I’m so disappointed. I hope you’re happy, destroying me like this. Were you laughing at me the whole time?”

Luca assumed the woman was talking about Wes and leaving him a voice mail. Had he really run off with her money? For her sake, Luca hoped not, but it wasn’t his problem.

Leaning to his left, he risked peeking inside the room. Luckily, the woman had her back to him. Lucky for him because it was a very nice view: the woman was wearing nothing but underwear.

Very tiny underwear.

Her bikini panties were pale blue, resting high on each cheek, and tucked in between her stunning buttocks just far enough to make him catch his breath. On top, he spotted the straps of her matching bra poking out from underneath a cascade of thick auburn hair.

He wondered what she looked like from the front...

She turned quickly, probably hearing his irregular breathing.

Now her scream was definitely of the help-I’m-being-assaulted variety.

He lowered the crowbar, noticing the two large pieces of luggage behind her. “Hey, hey,” he said softly, raising his left hand. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She waved her cell phone at him as she grabbed the nearest thing at hand—a pillow—and held it up against her seminaked body. “I’ve already hit my panic button. The police will be here any minute.”

“Good,” he said, leaning his weapon against the door frame, trying hard to ignore the fact that she was hot. Certainly way too hot for that douche bag, Wes. “I’m anxious to hear you explain what you’re doing in my apartment.”

“Your apartment? You mean you own the one below?”

He nodded. “It’s all one unit.”

“But I have a key. And five days left on the rental agreement.”

“What agreement?”

“My...” Her pause was notable, mostly for the look of fury that passed across her face. “My ex-jerkface business partner rented this place from the—from you, I guess. But I didn’t think you lived here.”

“Huh. Well, I think you might have been misinformed by Jerkface. And by Jerkface, I’m assuming you mean Wes Holland?”

Her whole demeanor changed from fierce guardedness to utter defeat and she lowered her cell phone. “Wait a minute. How do I know you’re the real owner?”

“Wes moved out. Letting him stay here was a favor, one that he didn’t value very highly. All this crap was supposed to be gone when he left.”

Maneuvering the pillow to cover whatever she could of herself, she grabbed her backpack and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Ha. You’re wrong. This is the rental agreement. Right here.” She held it up and wagged it at him, the same way she’d done with her phone.

The truth was, he’d agreed to let the guy stay, and he had moved out early, but there’d been nothing in writing. “Hey, I’m sorry about your friend, but you can’t stay here. I’m moving in and working on the apartment. The only reason I rented to him at all was because I hadn’t gotten started on the renovation yet. And he never mentioned you.”

“But he left a note,” she said, her voice wobbling. “He was supposed to meet me at the Port Authority. Help me move in. But he hasn’t answered any of my phone calls for two days. And he emptied our joint bank account that was intended for our new business.”

Yep, two days ago—that was when Wes had moved out. Luca felt bad for her, but it still wasn’t his problem. His gut had told him the guy was a prick. Why the hell hadn’t he listened?

“I understand you must be angry,” he said, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ll have to leave.”

“What? Now?”

“Well, no.” It was already late, well past dark, and he couldn’t see himself throwing her out. “You can stay tonight, but you’ll have to go tomorrow.”

A couple of very white teeth tugged on her lower lip. “Look, if you could just let me stay for the next five days? By then I’ll have found somewhere else. I’ll have figured out what to do.”

“May I suggest you get on the next Greyhound back to wherever you came from?”

A single tear trickled down her cheek and she quickly turned away. “I can’t. There’s no place for me there. I’ve planned this move for a while. We had everything set up to start our business...” Her voice trailed off, ending in a muffled sob. “Fine, I’ll go,” she whispered. “It can’t be in the morning, though. I need to find a place.”

He turned to leave, but hesitated at the door while he thought about her predicament. Letting her stay a couple days would mean he’d have to put off moving in upstairs, but it wouldn’t put the reno back much. It would just be less convenient for him. But he wasn’t a jerkface, and he doubted this was some sort of con.

Technically, he owed her nothing. Luca had agreed to let Wes have the room, not her. But she was in a hell of a spot. Still, what did he know about her?

He waited for her to face him again, and when she didn’t he asked, “What’s your name?”

“April.”

“Is that your real name?”

That got her to turn around. She pinned him with a glare as she wiped her tears as quickly as she could. “Yes. April Branagan. Check me out. I’m not a criminal.” Her bravado faltered and she let out a soft whimper. “Although your neighbors might think I am.”

“My neighbors?” The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “Why?”

“I didn’t say I was a criminal. Just that they might think so.”

“Why would they think that?” More to the point, why was he bothering to ask? He should be kicking her cute little behind out the front door right now.

“It was a misunderstanding. That’s all. There was no reason to call the cops.”

“Cops? Here?”

“No, not up here. Outside.” She sniffed and dabbed at her cheek. “And only because the elevator was out of order.”

Luca was pretty sure the cops didn’t give a rat’s ass about the elevator, so he waited, staring at her as she stared back. The pillow slipped a few inches. Either she hadn’t noticed or it was a ploy to distract him, which...

Goddamn it.

Her breasts were high and looked firm. He only saw the tops plumping over her pale blue bra. Nothing else was showing. Still, he moved his gaze to safer ground.

If there was such a thing.

He hated to think he’d end up being an idiot because she was hot. Those big dark eyes weren’t even the most remarkable thing about her face. It was the odd combination of her roundish cheeks and delicate chin. Or maybe the contrast between her dark brows and warm, rosy skin...

Whatever, she was gorgeous, and his opinion of Wes Holland went down several more notches. The guy was an idiot.

“Tell me why the cops were here,” he said, holding up a hand when she started to speak. “In one sentence, and make it good if you want to stay.”

She inhaled deeply, and he had to force himself to keep looking at her face. “Because the elevator was out of service and you can see how big my luggage is, I couldn’t carry both bags up the stairs at the same time by myself so I stuffed my duffel bag in the alcove by the elevator then I came up here only to find the note that told me Wes had run off with my money, and because of that it took me longer than I’d expected to go back for my duffel, and by that time there were cops downstairs because the bag was unattended, so I had to convince them that I wasn’t a terrorist even though the tag on the bag was in my aunt’s name, but then they looked inside and found nothing but my clothes so they didn’t arrest me, thank God. And that’s it. That’s why the cops were here.”

It was a good thing she’d stopped to take a breath because her face had started turning pink from speed talking her way through that entire monologue. “All right,” he said, holding back a laugh. “You can stay. Two days. And everything goes with you.”

“Really?”

He nodded, grudgingly. At least he wouldn’t feel like a snake.

“You haven’t told me your name,” she said.

“Luca Paladino.”

Hugging the pillow, she held out her hand, and when he took it, he was reminded quite viscerally of how petite she was. Five-one at the most?

“You know, I’m tearing this whole place up. There’s going to be a lot of noise and I can’t guarantee you’ll have electricity.”

“I’ll deal with it. Thanks.” She looked down and quietly muttered, “Even though the rental agreement was for five more days.”

He took a step back into the room. “Why don’t you let me take a look at that agreement?”

She hesitated, then handed him paper.

The bastard had clearly downloaded a standard rental agreement from the internet and forged Luca’s signature. “Be aware that I’m staying downstairs, so keep the screaming to a minimum,” he said.

Her shoulders drooped, but she kept her back upright, and her reddened eyes met his gaze straight on. She knew how to school her reactions. Interesting. So maybe she was involved in some kind of con. God, he hoped not. He wanted to believe she was exactly who she purported to be: a victim of a relationship gone bad.

April studied him for several moments then said, “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

“Just don’t make me the schmuck who bought a bunch of your bullshit, okay?”

Quickly wiping one finger underneath her right eye, she shook her head. “I won’t. I know far too well what that feels like. But I do have one favor to ask you.”

His stomach sank. “Don’t you mean another favor?”

She blinked. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “Could I borrow a roll of toilet paper?”

“Are you kidding?”

She waved in the direction of the bathroom. “He left me four sheets. Generous, isn’t he? Bastard.”

“That’s got to be a record low.” It occurred to him that she could’ve easily taken a roll from the downstairs bathroom. Instead she’d asked. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get it for you.”

She tried to give him a smile, but it didn’t stick.

On his way down the stairs he played devil’s advocate. It was quite possible the toilet paper situation had tipped the scales. Hell, two days was generous, considering he wanted to get a jump on the—

Ah, shit.

He’d almost forgotten about his date. With the very gorgeous and—he was quite sure of it—willing Jillian whom he’d run into at a gallery retrospective. Their date was in seven days. So yeah, April putting him behind schedule was inconvenient. Her being there wouldn’t stop him from working on the living room area, but he needed to have access to the upstairs bedroom. Two less days to get it in shape meant he’d have to hustle.

After finding a roll of toilet paper in the old vanity cabinet in the bathroom he was going to tear out, he went back to the staircase.

April appeared above him, dressed in a pair of jeans and a pink T-shirt. She was still hot.

He tossed the roll up, and she caught it handily. “Look, I’ve got a pizza coming any second. And some beer in the fridge. You’re welcome to have some.”

Even from this distance he could see she was tempted, but she hesitated. He supposed that was a good sign. Smart. She didn’t know him, either.

When she didn’t respond, he shrugged. “Suit yourself. But it’s a large pepperoni, and the beer is cold.”

He turned, leaving her to figure it out. It made no difference to him if she came downstairs. Then it occurred to him that he probably shouldn’t go back to his folks’ house tonight and leave her here on her own. But then where would he sleep?

Oh, for God’s sake, the woman was already too much trouble.

4

EVEN AFTER LUCA had disappeared, April just stood there, not sure she’d be able to move. The thought of going downstairs was more than she could bear. Not the thought of eating with Luca. Just making her way down there.

Instead, she returned to the Wes Abandonment Suite and stared at a spot on the floor. A pain in her shoulder knocked her out of her trance, which was a pity. For a while there, she’d had no thoughts, at least none she could remember. But somewhere in that void, she’d made a decision that surprised her.

She emptied more of her duffel bag until she got to her makeup and facial cleanser. She’d packed a couple of washcloths, mostly because she didn’t trust Wes to pick up anything but the cheapest crap.

If only she’d had the foresight to realize that was the least of her concerns.

She really had to let it go, for now at least. She took her things to the bathroom, which was so outdated it looked like something out of a 1950s movie. The toilet was in okay shape, just hard-water stained, as was the area around the sink’s drain. The shower looked reasonably clean and there was enough space on the boxy vanity-sink combo for her toiletries. Now all she needed was water.

Wetting her cloth, she put it over her face, concentrating on her puffy, red eyes. The end result, after applying the cool cloth four times, was that she looked as if she had a wicked cold. At least she didn’t appear to be on death’s door, so that was an improvement.

After brushing her hair, she dabbed a little blush on her cheeks then went to face her next big hurdle.

Luca was standing in the kitchen, a large pizza box balanced on an ugly Formica countertop. He looked up, immediately meeting her gaze, although she hadn’t made a sound. When she reached him, he got a beer out of the fridge.

After uncapping the bottle he handed it to her along with a paper towel.

“Thanks.” April managed a smile. Completely drained of energy, she felt so weird she couldn’t describe it. Nothing seemed real. Not even the long bus ride yesterday—or was that today?

God. Everything was a surreal blur.

“Sorry. No plates.”

“That’s fine,” she said and decided looking into his intense dark eyes was a bad idea. She turned to the shiny stainless-steel refrigerator that didn’t belong. At all. “Is that real?”

He followed her gaze, just stared for a moment, before looking at her. Even with a confused expression, he was still smoking hot. “Are we talking about the fridge?”

“Yeah, um... No.” Okay. Proof she should’ve stayed upstairs. “No, we aren’t,” she said, clearing her throat. “It just looks—” She took a big bite of her pizza to keep her mouth busy. Exhaustion combined with a really attractive guy was not a good mix. Had he been this gorgeous upstairs?

Luca was tall, at least a foot taller than she was, his hair dark brown and silky. He wore it on the long side, pushed back. With his Mediterranean skin tone and last name, she guessed his family was from an Italian coastal town. Naples, maybe? His eyes were dark, his brows full, his jaw strong...but the individual parts weren’t as impressive as the whole.

Shit, she was still staring at him.

“You mean the fridge looks too fancy for the Formica?” he asked.

“Yes?”

A faint smile tugged at his mouth.

She took a sip of beer. “So, this place is huge. I thought every apartment in New York was closet-sized.”

“A lot of them are. I think the place looks bigger since I took down two walls. It’s going to be a nice open space when it’s all finished.”

“Wow. A two-story apartment. Is that common here?”

“No. I lucked out. I’ll be turning half of the upstairs into a screened-in porch. The rest will be my master suite. The porch side is blocked off, so don’t go wandering around. It’s not safe.”

“I won’t. I’ll just stick to my little ol’ room. I should probably get a cooler or something, though,” she said, glancing around at the ladders and stacked drywall. “What did Jerkface use? Do you know?”

“Not my brand-new refrigerator.”

“I didn’t think so.” She studied the high-end appliance some more. “That sucker is big. You can’t have much in there.”

“What are you getting at?” Luca folded his arms across his chest.

A very nice chest to go with his broad shoulders. And muscular forearms. She met his gaze. “Oh, nothing. Just making an observation.”

“Right.”

“Obviously this is the kitchen,” she said, ignoring his skeptical tone. “What are you going to do with the rest of this area?”

“Dining room, living room.” He nodded at the wide space between them and the windows then gestured to the right, past the staircase. “Powder room and an office.”

“Holy cow. It’s going to be gorgeous. You’re doing all the work yourself?”

“No. I’ll have help, but I’ll be doing most of it. My family owns a construction company, so it’s pretty much what I do.”

April nodded. Yep, that explained the muscular arms. She glanced around, imagining what she’d do with so much space as she finished her slice of pizza, which tasted amazing even though it wasn’t that hot anymore. The beer went down great with it, too. “I hope it turns out exactly the way you imagine it will.”

He seemed surprised, but she meant it. If there was one thing she understood it was that shit happened, even if a person planned everything down to the tiniest detail.

“Another piece?”

“Oh, I’m not leaving this crust,” she said, feeling slightly buzzed. “I’d heard about New York pizza and wondered if it was just a lot of hype. But, wow. For a while there, I thought I was going to be hauled off to jail without ever having a slice. I would’ve been really pissed.”

His smile made her chest warm. For all the grief she’d given him, he was being very hospitable. She sure wished he had chairs, though. Her legs were feeling wobbly again.

Leaning against the island, she took in the old white porcelain sink, what was left of the Formica counter and the fridge. It was really something, not a brand she recognized. Too big for one person, unless that person wanted to share. “You don’t have a microwave.”

“I will eventually.”

“The microwave Wes bought is probably a cheapo but you’re welcome to use it.”

“Thanks,” he said and tipped the bottle to his mouth.

She watched him drain his beer, as fascinated by the working of his jaw and throat as by her sudden instinct to touch him. Dragging her gaze away, she took another hasty sip of her own beer and found the bottle was empty. That might be for the best. The point of her visit hadn’t been to get buzzed or to sponge food off her landlord. She’d just wanted to make nice. And maybe do a little negotiating. She needed him to let her stay just a little bit longer, until she got settled and recovered from the shock of this scary predicament.

“I just want you to know how much I appreciate this,” she said. “You’re being really nice about everything, and well, before I go I just...”

The way his eyes narrowed made her rethink her approach.

“I think I would like another slice.”

He set her up with seconds of both pizza and beer and grabbed another bottle for himself. As she bit into her slice, she walked over to the large window that looked out onto Mott Street. “Café Roma?” she said. “Is that a good place for Italian food?”

“Yeah. It is.”

She looked back at him. “Since I’m in Little Italy I want to try something I wouldn’t find in St. Louis.” She’d thought he might offer some suggestions, but he stayed quiet. “It’s a very busy street, but I’m not hearing any traffic.”

“Special windows.”

“Triple glazed?”

He nodded, and once again it appeared that she’d surprised him. “It won’t keep out sirens, but for regular traffic, it works great.”

She took another pull of her beer, which made her feel a tiny bit dizzy. Maybe this would go better if she sat down. Looking around, she saw a big wooden shipping crate, which, according to the label, was filled with wine, a stepstool that she could have perched on except it was awfully close to the floor and a stack of boards. None of the options appeared very stable, and she figured she probably shouldn’t overstay her welcome, anyway. Which meant she needed to get on with things.

“Could you be a bit more specific about exactly how long I’m allowed to stay?” she blurted.

Luca’s eyes closed for a second.

“I’m just asking because, well, today really doesn’t count, what with me getting here so late. It would have been impossible for me to look for housing tonight, so what do you say we count tomorrow as day one? That will give me more of a chance to do some research and make some calls. That is, if there’s a place nearby where they serve cheap coffee and have free Wi-Fi?”

“Wait a minute—”

“I mean, all that was supposed to have been done by Wes. He was in charge of finding a permanent place for us to live. I have no idea where he looked, or if he even looked at all. And yes, I know it’s not your problem but I don’t have anyone to call or to give me tips or even a couch to sleep on.”

“April—”

“I’m not trying to get anything more out of you, honest.”

His lips pressed together, but he didn’t tell her to take a flying leap.

“Unless, I can?”

His deepening scowl said she was pressing her luck.

“But, no. You’ve been so nice already, and I don’t want to take advantage of you. Although, there is just one more little thing... Since Wes had paid for the next five days there should be a small refund, right?”

“He didn’t.”

“What?”

“He left without paying for the last week he was supposed to stay here. Which is why I figured he was gone for good.”

She sagged. But she would mope later. Instead, stopping to consider that she was lucky, under the circumstances, she pulled out a commiserating smile. “I’m very sorry he did that to you,” she said. Then a very unpleasant thought occurred to her. “That means I owe you for the two days.”

Frowning, Luca set down his beer. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. So, let’s see... Two days would mean...” She rubbed her temple, trying hard to do the math. “I’m usually good with numbers. I guess I’m just too tired. Would you mind doing the calculation and letting me know what I owe?”

“Look, April—”

“I won’t stay for free.” Before she even realized something was wrong, she had to brace her hand on the wood cabinet to keep from falling over. The dizziness passed as quickly as it had come. She guessed hearing yet another bad thing about Wes had made her head spin.

“You all right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Luca cleared his throat, picked up a tarp that had been folded neatly on top of a tool chest and draped it over the case of wine. “Travel days are the worst,” he said. “Especially by Greyhound.” He gestured for her to sit down.

She stumbled a little before she planted her butt on the makeshift seat. “No, it was okay. The problem wasn’t the bus, it was the lack of sleep even before I boarded, then not hearing from the jackass, then the elevator situation, then me almost going to prison and now you wanting to throw me out.”

He coughed, and she realized what she’d said.

She blinked up at Luca, who was watching her with a hint of a smile and an arched right eyebrow. Instead of questioning that look, she yawned. A real jawbreaker. Which let loose a wave of exhaustion that hit her like a tidal wave. “I really should go get some sleep.”

“I agree. I don’t think the beer helped, either.”

“No, it probably didn’t. I’m not much of a drinker, and I rarely have beer, although this one was really good.”

“Look, even knowing I should have my head examined, I’m going to let you manipulate me into that extra day.”

“Thank you. That’s very nice.” April really needed to get upstairs. Her head kept getting fuzzier. “So, I’ll plan on leaving the morning after the second night. Not counting tonight.”

With another shake of his head, he said, “What is it you did in St. Louis?”

“Hmm? Oh, lots of jobs. During and after college I worked everything from construction to pet sitting to serving promotional drinks to drunk businessmen. That one was the most lucrative, although getting my ass pinched got old real quick.”

“So, you never worked in sales, huh? You know, you look as though you’re about to fade away. Why don’t you let me walk you to your room?”

She laughed. “It’s just upstairs.”

“The last thing we need is you falling and breaking something.”

“Not to mention suing you. I wouldn’t do that. Wes, on the other hand, would. Can you believe him? How could I not have realized he was an epic asshole? That’s very disturbing. I’m going to have to think about that one—” She yawned. “Just not tonight.”

Luca stood close, and looking up at him made the room spin. She took another sip of her beer, belatedly remembering it was ill-advised.

“Wait a minute. Don’t move,” he said. A moment later he was back, holding a bottle of water. Then he put a hand on her back and helped her stand. Which was very nice of him. So was his sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her against him.

He was so much bigger than Wes. Taller, stronger, more muscular. He smelled good, too. Masculine. She was pretty sure he wasn’t wearing any cologne, either, at least not the kind Wes stocked up on. “He liked to smell like the woods,” she said. “Wes, I mean. But he hated the woods. Hated camping. Made me take care of all the spiders.”

“Did he?”

As they got closer to the stairs she found herself leaning more heavily against Luca. “You’re nice, though. Thank you for this. For letting me stay. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

“I’m sure of it. Come on now, step up. We can do this.”

It took some concentration for her to climb up the staircase. Or maybe she was simply distracted by the man who was helping her. His body felt warm and solid. His arm tightening around her made her feel safe. So foolish. She didn’t know him. She just needed to get him to let her stay until she could find a job—heck, several jobs—so she could earn enough to find a place to live that wasn’t a cardboard box.

“No way I’m not going to start my own business,” she said as they made it to the second-floor landing. “No way that asshat’s going to stop me.”

“Good for you,” he said, walking her to the bedroom door. “Here, take this.” He handed her the water.

It took a moment for her to get a grip on it, as she was busy feeling bereft again. About Wes. About the loss of Luca’s arm around her waist. About the stupid mattress and wrinkled sheets. She looked up at him one more time, steadying herself with a hand on his very broad, hard chest. “I’ll pay you back, you know. For the pizza and beer. And water. For the next two nights. I pay my way,” she said. “No matter what.”

“Okay, we can talk about that tomorrow. For now, though, I think you should get some sleep, huh?”

She slid her palm off his chest and listed to the left. His arms came all the way around her, and she leaned gratefully against his chest, so tired and weak she didn’t know how she was going to make it to the mattress. When she fully realized what she was doing, she straightened away from him. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“It’s okay. You’re crashing from all that adrenaline from earlier.” He loosened his arms but didn’t pull away. “Take your time.”

“You’re a nice man, you know that?”

Luca smiled. “Yeah, I’m a real peach.”

“You are.” April smiled back at him as he turned her toward the room. “I’ll vouch for you.”

“You don’t know me. I could be a real scumbag.”

“No, you’re not,” she said as he gave her a gentle push forward. “I just know it.”

“You thought you knew Wes,” Luca reminded her.

Her stomach clenched, and she stumbled into the room and waited until he shut the door behind him before the tears fell.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.