One Hit Wonderful (5 page)

She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Charles slid his arm around her shoulders, gave her a firm squeeze, and stepped into the breach.

“What my friend here means to say,” he said smoothly, “is that she’s very interested in renting the apartment and would like to discuss terms with you.”

Nate’s lips twitched. “Figured that.” He rubbed his jaw again as he took a good look at her, and reflexively, she looked down.

She stifled a groan as she saw the state of her clothes. The encounter with Beau had left her gray pencil skirt smudged and turned to the side, the seam running down the front now instead of down her leg. Her hose were torn, her trim blouse half untucked, and her shoes—darn it, there was a smudge across the toe of her left shoe! Those Jimmy Choos had cost her a small fortune.
That better be just mud,
she thought, and barely resisted the urge to bend down to check.

She looked back up to see Nate watching her with a grin that managed to charm and irritate at the same time. Why were guys so good at that? “So why are you looking for an apartment?”

She’d been expecting this question, and had formulated her answer carefully. “My roommate is moving out of town, so I thought it was time to get a place of my own.”

He jerked his chin toward the carriage house. “You took a look? What’d you think?”

Be cool,
she thought.
Don’t let him see how much you want it.
“It’s nice,” she said, and watched his grin flash again.

“Thanks,” was his only response. “I use the lower level as a work space, and even though there’s soundproofing, some noise will probably bleed through. How do you feel about music?”

“What sort of music?” she asked, slightly panicked at the thought of a bunch of guys coming over to live out their rock-and-roll dreams with screaming, head-banging rock on a daily basis. The apartment was great, but she wasn’t sure it was that great.

“Piano mostly, the occasional guitar, various other instruments here and there. I’m a composer.”

“Oh,” she said, blinking in surprise. He didn’t seem like the sensitive, artistic type. “What sort of music do you write?”

“Mainly instrumental stuff, musical scores for movies or television.”

“Oh,” she said again, and mentally winced.
Nice conversation, Lily.

“I work mainly in the afternoon, so you probably won’t even hear me unless you’re home during the day.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she replied. “I’m on days right now, although I occasionally take the overnight shift when someone’s off.”

“Truck stop waitress?” he asked mildly, and she stifled a spurt of irritation.

“No. I’m a manager at the Pavilion Hotel & Spa.”

“Nice place,” he said, and his grin told her she’d given him exactly the reaction he’d been looking for. “And I imagine those shoes are more practical for a hotel manager than a waitress.”

“Hmmm.”

Nate shifted his weight to scratch Beau behind the ears. Over the dog’s ecstatic moan, he asked, “When do you want to move in?”

“By next Wednesday,” Charles said, and Lily turned to glare at him.

“Fast,” was Nate’s mild response.

Lily mouthed,
Shut up
to Charles and turned back to face Nate. She summoned up a smile. “My roommate decided to leave sort of on the spur of the moment.”

“Wednesday’s not a problem,” Nate assured her.

“That’s good, but you still haven’t told me what you’re charging in rent.”

He just grinned at her. “How’s six hundred a month strike you?”

Like a flaming steal,
she thought, and choked down her instinctive whoop of joy. “Fine,” she said, and drove her elbow into Charles’ midriff when he gasped. “I can take the lease with me now, to look over, and let you know if I have any questions.”

Nate shifted his weight. “Hadn’t put anything like that together yet. Do you need a lease?”

“Oh yes,” she said grimly. “I need a lease.”

His eyebrows went up at her tone, but he just said, “Okay. I imagine I can find a lease form online that’ll suit. You have an email address I can send it to?”

She plucked a card from the narrow pocket of her skirt and held it out. “It’s my work email,” she explained as he took it, “but I can check it from home.”

“I’ll get something together tonight and send it over.” He tucked the card in his hip pocket, chuckling when Beau nudged his hand. “Okay, buddy, we’re going in. We were playing in the park,” he explained, “and now he wants a drink and a treat.”

Beau threw back his massive head and howled at the word “treat”, and Lily laughed. “He knows the word.”

“Tell me about it,” Nate muttered as the dog jumped up and planted massive paws on his shoulders. “I’m going to have to start spelling it like I do v-e-t.”

He pushed the dog off. “I’ll email you tonight, and if you’re okay with the lease, you can pick up keys sometime on Monday.”

“Okay,” she said numbly, and barely resisted the urge to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“Nice to meet you, Lily Michaels,” he said, not smiling at all, and her stomach did a fast flip.

“Nice to meet you too,” she managed, and then he was turning back to the leaping dog and the two of them disappeared into the house.

“Whoa.”

Lily spun to look at Charles, who was standing there grinning like a fool. “What?”

He fanned himself with one hand and rolled his eyes. “Guy is
HOT
.”

She shrugged uncomfortably. “I suppose,” she said, and barely resisted the urge to look over her shoulder at the house as she started down the drive. “He’s not at all my type.”

“Oh sure,” Charles scoffed. He fell in step beside. “Handsome, rich, funny…yeah, I can see how that’d be a real turn-off.”

“He’s scruffy,” she countered.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re spending too much time in that hotel with pampered businessmen who get manicures and facials.”

“You get manicures and facials.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m gay, it’s my duty to be fabulously pampered. My point is, darling, that scruffy is sexy. Very sexy.” He frowned. “Did you think he looked familiar?”

“No, why?”

“I just thought I might have seen him somewhere before,” Charles said, glancing over his shoulder at the house. “Although I’d hope I’d remember something that yummy.”

She shook her head at him. “You’re hopeless.”

He sighed as they reached the car. “No, you’re hopeless. Passing up handsome and rich just because of a little five o’clock shadow. Ask the man to shave, for God’s sake.”

“How do you know he’s rich?” Lily opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat.

“Look at this place!” He gestured to the elegant house. “In this neighborhood, that spells rich. And he’s not hurting for cash, only charging you six hundred a month for that apartment when we both know he could get three times that.”

“I know.” She grinned suddenly, giddy with anticipation. “I get to live in that gorgeous place, Chuck, and I don’t have to break the bank to do it.”

“Don’t call me Chuck,” he said automatically, and started the car.

* * * * *

Nate watched them walk down the drive to the orange Bug parked at the curb through the kitchen window while Beau slurped water behind him. Lily Michaels, he mused, had been a nice surprise. Oh, she’d definitely had some starch in her spine—he grinned when he remembered the look on her pretty face when he’d said he didn’t know what he wanted to charge for rent—but he had a feeling that once he got past the starch, there was plenty of softness underneath.

Not to mention a killer body. It was probably fortunate for all of them that she hadn’t realized just how far her skirt had crept up while she lay sprawled on the ground under Beau. There were some amazing legs there. And, he noted as she leaned over slightly to open the car door, a fine ass.

He imagined she thought she had a good poker face, but when he’d thrown out the rental amount, she’d been as transparent as glass. He knew he could get more for the apartment; the location alone would allow him to double it, and when the layout and workmanship of the space were taken into account, he imagined he could get at least triple what he’d quoted her, maybe more.

But he didn’t need the extra money. He’d done the project first out of boredom then as a personal challenge, to see if he could translate his talent for notes and chords to wood and brick. It had taken months, countless trips to the local home improvement store, and had driven his agent to heart palpitations when he’d seen what Nate had been doing with his Grammy-winning hands, but he’d managed to finish it all on his own.

And now, he thought as he watched the VW drive off, it was going to be home to one Lily Michaels. Life just got a little more interesting, he thought, and went to find a lease off the internet.

Chapter Three

Lily checked the computer screen and drummed her fingers in frustration. No new emails. A glance at the clock in the corner of the screen increased the finger drumming. “Four o’clock,” she muttered. “Almost twenty-four hours, which for any normal,
organized
person would be plenty of time to send an email.”

She drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she ordered herself to calm down. Getting angry would accomplish nothing, she reminded herself, and it was certainly possible the man had other things to do today. It was unreasonable of her to expect that her lease would be the only thing on his agenda today. Pep talk delivered, she sat back in her chair, determined to relax a bit. Then looked at the computer screen again.

No new emails.

“Dammit!” She pushed back from the desk. She needed a distraction, something to do instead of staring at her computer and cursing Nate MacIntyre for failing to live up to her expectations. Which, she acknowledged silently, was almost as irritating as MacIntyre’s casual approach to being a landlord.

Smothering her annoyance—both at herself and her potential landlord—she stepped out of the office and smiled at the desk clerk on duty. “Jason. How’re things out here?”

“Just fine, Ms. Michaels.” Jason grinned, his braces glinting at her. “The debutantes have their spa day today.”

“Poor Emilio.” She sighed, feeling a genuine twinge of pity for the spa manager. “They’ll chew him up and spit him out.”

“But they tip well,” Jason said, and she laughed.

“So they do.” She looked around the desk, hoping for something to do. “Are the registrations for tomorrow taken care of?”

“All done.”

“What about the timecards, the vendor invoices?”

“Done and done,” Jason said cheerfully.

“So, I’m superfluous here,” she said dryly, and Jason blushed.

“Sorry, Ms. Michaels,” he said, but she waved him off.

“Not your fault, Jason. I’m just trying to keep my mind off something, and it would have been good to have some busy work.”

“Next time I’ll leave the timecards for you,” he said with a grin.

“Bite your tongue,” she muttered. She hated tabulating the staff hours. She turned to go back into the office. “I’m going to work on next month’s schedule,” she told him. “I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

“Uh, Ms. Michaels?”

She turned back, frowning at the nerves in Jason’s voice. He was young and green, but he wasn’t normally nervous. “What is it?”

He pointed toward the front door. “Don’t point,” she said automatically, but followed the gesture. “Oh just hell,” she said, and watched Max stroll into the lobby.

“Guess you got something to do now,” Jason said.

“Be careful what you wish for.” She sighed. She watched Max stroll toward her in a thousand-dollar suit and a used-car-salesman’s smile. “Go ahead and take a break, I’ll cover the desk.”

“You sure?” Jason asked, concern stamped on his youthful features, and she patted his hand.

“I’ll be fine,” she told him. She watched him head for the employee break room then fixed a careful smile on her face and turned to face the music.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Carelli,” she said.

“Lily.” His brown eyes warmed as they roamed over her, and she struggled not to shudder. She knew her trim blouse and plain skirt were perfectly respectable, not enticing in any way, but still his gaze made her want to double-check to make sure her buttons were all fastened. “How are you?”

“Just fine,” she said. She kept the professional smile on her face. “How may we at the Pavilion assist you today?”

“So formal, Lily.” Max clucked his tongue, his handsome face reproachful. “Surely we’re past that, with our…personal history.”

It cost her, but she kept the smile in place. “I’d prefer keeping our association on a professional level. What can I do for you?”

The easy charm in his eyes chilled just a little, but like any true hustler, he simply shifted tactics. “How is Bridget?” he asked, his voice dripping with concern. “I know she must be terribly upset.”

“Oh?” Lily asked, allowing the faintest hint of curiosity to color her tone. “Why must she be?”