Midnight At Tiffany's (7 page)

“Well, for a start you’re rich enough to buy a small country and I don’t even own an apartment. In fact, since I lost my job, I’ve had to give notice and soon I will have nowhere to live.”

“It wouldn’t have made economic or logistical sense to keep your apartment on once we’re married, so that’s one decision made for us.”

“Married?” She gaped at him. “Are you
drunk
?!”

“No, I’m decisive, as I keep telling you, but if you need a little more time that’s all right with me. As long as it isn’t too much time. I’m an impatient man, as you’ve already identified. And ruthless, and single-minded about getting my own way.”

“But—” She shook her head, dazed. “You can’t be serious.”

“You want me to prove how serious I am?” He took her hand and walked toward the door of Tiffany’s.

She stopped and tugged at his hand, half laughing, half embarrassed. A few people had stopped to watch, curious. “Wait! They’re closed.”

“Sometimes they open for special occasions. Me finally proposing to a woman is a special occasion.”

“Chase—” she was desperate “—you’ve spent one night with me.”

“The best night of my life. The first of many best nights of my life.”

The breath hitched in her throat. “I’m nothing like the women you usually mix with—”

“That’s true. Please don’t ever change.”

“We come from different places.”

“But as long as we end up in the same place, that’s all that matters. You were the one who told me that there are no obstacles that can’t be overcome when you care about someone. I know you love me. It’s in your eyes and in your smile. I can wait to hear you say it, and until you do I’ll keep saying it for both of us.”

Hope poked its way through the doubts. “You’re a man who thinks about every decision. You measure everything and—”

“Some things are too important to leave to logic.” He curled his hand behind her head and brought her face to his. “I love you. I want to make you happy. I’m
going
to make you happy. If you’ll trust me, if you’ll come with me, I’ll prove it.”

“Come with you where?”

He grinned. Boyish. Younger. “Anywhere. Everywhere, but we’ll start with my beach house in the Hamptons.”

“You have a beach house?”

“I do, and I haven’t spent nearly enough time there lately.
I’m going to teach you to sail. And there’s a room overlooking the sand that will be perfect for writing. And I have a library.”

The library.

“I saw your library featured in a magazine.”

“Well, now you can see it in real life. My brother bought your book and you have another deadline pressing down on you. A whole career ahead.”

A horrible thought sneaked into her head. “Did you tell him to buy it?”

“No, and once you know my brother, which you soon will given all the Thanksgiving, Christmas and Fourth of July celebrations that stretch ahead of us, you’ll know it wouldn’t have made a difference if I had. He’s as stubborn as I am.”

“So he really did like my book.”

“He loved your book, and he wants more books, so while I’m working during the day, you can write, then we’ll meet up and do exciting things to each other. And if you want to pretend to be your heroine from time to time to practice different positions, that’s fine with me. How does that sound?”

It sounded like a fairy tale.

“You sent it to him. You made my dream come true—”

“You did that.” He kissed her gently. “You did it yourself.”

She eased away just enough to speak. “That apartment you took me to—you told me you were just staying there for a while—”

“That was true. Before now I’ve never spent long enough in a place to be able to call it home.”

“But you
do
own it.”

“If you’re worried, don’t be. We can sell it. In fact, we probably should sell it. We’re going to need a family house.”

“We are?” She felt faint. “Why?”

“Because we’re a family. Eventually we might have babies. Lots of long-legged kids who are going to grow up learning to sail.”

Her eyes filled. “Chase—”

“Don’t cry.” He swept his thumb over her cheek. “I don’t ever want to see you cry. I am going to put bubble wrap on all the sharp edges in our home so you can’t damage yourself.”

She gave a choked laugh. “I’d trip over it.”

“We’ll use cushioned flooring.”

She buried her face in his shoulder. “Chase—”

“Shh—”

She felt his hand on her hair, unbelievably gentle. “I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe it’s real.”

“Why not? This is New York City,” he murmured, “and anything can happen here. You were the one who told me that. Exciting things. So if you say yes to me we can go and live a life of daring and adventure, but the wild affair you wanted will be with each other. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a dream come true.” She wrapped her arms round his neck. “When does our new life start?”

“Right now, when we walk through that door into Tiffany’s.”

Read on for an extract from SLEEPLESS IN MANHATTAN by Sarah Morgan

“I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“For misreading the situation the other night. For making things awkward between us. I was—” She hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I was looking for things that weren’t there. I was close to panic and you were trying to distract me. I understand that now. I don’t want you feeling that you have to avoid me, or be careful around me. I’d never wanted that—I—”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” He gripped the railing and she noticed his knuckles were white.

“I wanted to clear it up, that’s all. It was a kiss. Didn’t mean anything. Two people trapped in an elevator, one of whom was feeling vulnerable.”
Shut up right now, Paige.
“I know I’m not your type. I know you don’t have those feelings. I’m like your little sister. I get that, so—”

“Oh for—
seriously
?” He interrupted her with a low growl and finally turned to face her. “After what happened the other night you really think I see you as a little sister? You think I could kiss you that way if I felt like that about you?”

She stared at him, her heart drumming a rhythm against her chest. “I thought—you said—I thought you saw me that way.”

“Yeah, well, I tried.” He gave a humorless laugh and drained his champagne in one mouthful. “God knows, I tried. I’ve done everything short of asking Matt for a baby photo of you and sticking that to my wall. Nothing works. And do you know why? Because I do have feelings, you’re not little and you’re not my fucking sister.”

Shock struck her like a bolt of lightning.

They were the only two people left on the terrace. Just them and the twinkling lights of Manhattan. The buildings rose around them, dark shapes enveloping them in intimate shadows and the shimmer of light.

The storm clouds were gathering, creating ominous shapes in the dark sky.

The sudden lick of wind held the promise of rain.

Paige was oblivious. The sky could have come crashing down and she wouldn’t have noticed.

Her mouth was so dry she could hardly form the words. “But if you feel that way—if—you do have feelings, why do you keep saying—” she stumbled, confused. “Why haven’t you ever done anything about it?”

“Why do you think?” There was a cynical, bitter edge to Jake’s tone that didn’t fit the nature of the conversation. None of the pieces fitted. She couldn’t think. Everything about her had ceased to function.

“Because of Matt?”

“Partly. He’d kick my butt and I wouldn’t blame him.” He stared down at his hands, as if they were something that didn’t belong to him. As if he was worried about what they might do.

“Because you’re not interested in relationships—or complications as you call them.”

“Exactly.”

“But sex doesn’t have to be a relationship. It can just be sex. You said so yourself.”

“Not with you.” His tone was harsh and she took a step back, shocked. They’d often argued, baited each other, but she’d never heard that edge of steel in his voice before.

“Why? What’s different about me?”

“I’m not going to screw you and walk away, Paige. That’s not going to happen.”

“Because of our friendship? Because you’re worried it would be awkward?”

“Yeah, that too.”

“Too? What else?” She stared at him bemused.

He was silent.

“Jake? What else?”

He swore under his breath. “Because I care about you. I don’t want to hurt you. There’s already been enough damage to your heart. You don’t need more.”

The first raindrops started to fall.

Paige was oblivious.

Her head spun with questions. Where? What? Why?
How much?
“So you—wait—” She struggled to make sense of it. “You’re saying that you’ve been protecting me? No. That can’t be true. You’re the only one who
doesn’t
protect me. When everyone else is wrapping me in cotton wool, you handle me like you’re throwing the first pitch at the game.” He didn’t protect her. He didn’t. Not Jake.

She waited for him to agree with her, to confirm that he didn’t protect her.

He was silent.

There was a throbbing in her head. She lifted her fingers to her forehead and rubbed. The storm was closing in—she could feel it, and not just in the sky above her.

“I know you don’t protect me.” She tried to focus, tried to examine the information and shook her head. “Just the other night, when we found out we’d lost our jobs, Matt was sympathetic, but you were brutal. I was ready to cry, but you made me so
angry
and—” She stared at him, understanding. She felt the color drain from her face. “You did it on purpose. You made me angry on purpose.”

“You get more done when you’re angry,” he said flatly. “And you needed to get things done.”

No denial.

He’d goaded her. Galvanized her into action.

“You challenge every idea I have.” She felt dizzy. “We fight. All the time. If I say something is black, you say it’s white.”

He stood in silence, not bothering to deny it, and she shook her head in disbelief.

“You make me angry. You do that on purpose because if I’m angry with you then I’m not—”
She’d been blind.
She breathed, adjusting to this new picture of their relationship. The first boom of thunder split the air but she ignored it. “How long? How long, Jake?”

“How long, what?” He yanked at his bow tie with impatient fingers. His gaze shifted from hers. He looked like a man who wanted to be anywhere but with her.

“How long have you cared? How long have you been protecting me?” She stumbled over the word, and the thought.

He ran his hand over his jaw. “Since I walked through the door of that damn hospital room and saw you sitting on the bed in your Snoopy T-shirt, with that enormous smile on your face. You were so brave. The most frightened brave person I’d ever seen. And you tried so hard not to let anyone see it. I have always protected you, Paige. Except for the other night when I let my guard down.”

But he’d been protecting her then, too. He’d been taking care of her when she was so terrified she hadn’t known what to do.

“So you thought I was brave, but not strong. Not strong enough to cope alone without protection. I don’t understand. I thought you weren’t interested—that you didn’t want this, and now I discover—” It was a struggle to process it. “So this whole time you
did
care about me. You do.”

Rain was falling steadily now, landing in droplets on his jacket and her hair.

“Paige—”

“The kiss the other night—”

“Was a mistake.”

“But it was real. It wasn’t because I was a pair of red lips in an elevator. All these days, months, years I’ve been telling myself you didn’t feel anything. All the time I’ve been confused because my instincts were so wrong and I couldn’t understand why, but now I do. They weren’t wrong. I wasn’t wrong.”

“Maybe you weren’t.”

“So why let me think that?”

“Because it was easier.”

“Easier than what? Telling me the truth? News flash, and, by the way, I thought you knew this—I don’t want to be protected. I want to live my life. You’re the one who’s always telling me to take more risks.”

“Yeah, well, that proves you shouldn’t listen to anything I tell you. We should go inside before you catch pneumonia.” He eased away from the railings and she caught his arm.

“I’ll go inside when I decide to go inside.” The rain was soaking her skin. “What happens now?”

“Nothing. I know you don’t want to be protected, but that’s tough, Paige, because that’s what I’m doing. I’m not what you’re looking for, and I never have been. We don’t want the same thing. There’s a car waiting downstairs to take you and the other two home. Make sure you use it.” Without giving her a chance to respond, Jake strode away from her toward the bank of elevators and left her standing there, alone in the glittering cityscape, watching the entire shape of her life change. Another twist. Another turn. The unexpected.

ISBN: 978-1-474-04846-0

MIDNIGHT AT TIFFANY’S

© 2015 Sarah Morgan

Published in Great Britain 2015
by Harlequin MIRA, an imprint of HarperCollins
Publishers
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