Some Like it Easy (4 page)

“Yes and I’ll set the table.” Penny grinned wider before clearing off the coffee table by lifting away stacks of books and magazines. She dropped them into corners then stripped discarded clothing off the chairs. “Sorry, we don’t do formal dining, Georgie. Have a seat.”

Bemused more than anything, he took a moment to remove his coat and glanced around for a place to hang it. Penny took it out of his hands and set it on the table by the door. “Thank you. Are you sure I shouldn’t go?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “We have pizza, we have wine, and I think we’re watching a chick flick, but you’re welcome to join us.”

Mallory returned with paper plates, a roll of paper towels and the pizza box. Apparently, protocol involved serving themselves. George took the chair Penny offered while the girls settled onto the sofa. Sitting cross-legged, Penny worked on her laptop while balancing a slice of pizza in her hand. Mallory turned on the television and started a movie, but barely looked away from her cell phone.

Attention divided between the girls and the film they’d turned on, he couldn’t quite figure out why a prostitute movie appealed to them. Honestly, ‘chick flicks’ were not his thing. The shopping trip the woman went on explained a lot.

“We’re out of the wine,” Mallory said with a sigh. “Water?”

“Yeah.” Penny glanced up from the computer screen. Both women stared, transfixed by the redhead’s shopping antics and both burst out laughing at the
big mistake
line. The scene ended and his hostesses resumed their activities. “What classes are you taking?”

Belatedly, George realized Penny was talking to him. “I’m sorry, what?”

Mallory handed him a bottle of water, then passed another to Penny before settling in with hers.

“Classes, princeypoo. What classes are you taking?” Penny was very different from his brother’s wife. Where Anna was restrained, elegant, and very self-possessed, Penny was fiery and constantly in motion—tempestuous and beautiful.

“I have no idea,” he said with a shrug. “I enrolled past the cutoff and made my requests, but I won’t discover until tomorrow whether or not they found room for me.”

“You can look your schedule up online,” Mallory said. “That’s what Penny’s been doing since we sat down. Figuring out her routes and studio time around her classes—ow.” She rubbed her arm where Penny had smacked her. “What?”

“You’re an artist?” It wasn’t that much of a leap, since the whole room spoke to it.

“We both are. I’m visual. She’s music.” And the subject was closed.
Interesting.
“You should have your student ID and login information. Mal’s right; you can look up your classes.”

He could, but since he had to head over to the campus in the morning anyway, why bother? “I can wait till tomorrow.”

“That’s
if
they hold classes tomorrow,” Mallory said, her gaze on the window.

George followed her stare and frowned. A frosting of white touched the glass and lamplight refracted off the ice coating the edges. “The storm will likely pass by morning. The pilot indicated only three to six inches were likely.”

“Maybe.” Mallory stood abruptly. “If it stalls, we’re screwed. I’m tired. It was great to meet you, George. Welcome to the building.”

With that, she left them alone. Penny stared after her friend for a minute then sighed.

“Do you need me to go?” Though she hadn’t acted all that interested in his presence, he didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

“No, I’m just worried about her and a little tired.”

“Jetlag.” That he understood. “The best way to deal with it is to drink plenty of water, stay up till your normal sleep time and set an alarm so you wake when you normally would. You’ll be a little slow for a day or two, but the body adapts quickly.” Finally, something he could assist with.

“You travel a lot, don’t you?”

“More than my fair share.” He shifted in the chair. The very design forced him to lean back, so he set one ankle to his knee. “I do sleep on flights in an effort to maintain my schedule if I am traveling between disparate time zones.”

“Cool,” she said and set the laptop to the side. “So you chose New York?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Was it a trick question?
“As I said earlier, I took your advice.”

“Yeah, but why? I’m not really what you might call a reliable resource.”

No, but he’d found her opinion one not weighed down by disbelief in him. “You’re family.” At her skeptical look, he spread his hands. “Of a sort. Your sister is my sister-in-law and my brother is your brother-in-law.”

“Yeah, but it’s a stretch to call us family.”

“Very well, why did you suggest New York over the other options?”

“Seriously? Minnesota versus North Carolina versus New York? You think there was a competition?” She unscrewed the lid on her water bottle and found the remote to pause the movie.

He hadn’t really looked at the other two schools. Instead, he’d simply taken the leap based on her bold response. “No, I suppose not. Thank you for your reference, however. It made a difficult decision easier.”

“No sweat,” she said with a grin, then hit play on the movie. “We’re family, right?”

Only half-watching the movie, he turned her words over in his head. The apartment next door had been cleaned, furnished and prepared. The sterile atmosphere hadn’t been remotely welcoming. Knocking on Penny’s door had been an impulse. “What classes are you taking?”

She slanted him a sideways glance. “Why? Planning to stalk me?”

No, though the idea had merit. Sitting forward, he clasped his hands. “Your last advice proved invaluable. Maybe you can help me with my course load, too.”

Her giggle delighted him. “Oh, princeypoo, I am so not the tutor you are looking for.”

“I’m sure there’s lots of things you could teach me.” And he would be a most eager student. Suddenly, Armand’s ultimatum didn’t seem so bad.

No, not at all.

T
he idea
he would sort his schedule out the following day proved to be an ambitious assessment. Classes were cancelled due to the promised six inches of snow becoming closer to two feet. Fortunately, Penny and her roommate took pity on him, so he shared breakfast and dinner with them in their apartment. The campus reopened mid-week and George spent two hours meeting with his newly appointed academic advisor.

A gentlemen in his mid-fifties with a tired appearance and utter disinterest in his title, Mr. Hodgins didn’t encourage familiarity with his students. At the same time, he did require George explain his grades, or lack thereof, in each of his previous UCLA classes without an ounce of regard for his privileged status. It proved a refreshing, if frustrating, exercise. The counselor also demanded George change his major from undecided to one with a focus. In the meanwhile, he had overloaded his full rotation with six classes. All met twice weekly and he would start his first class the following day.

After the meeting, George talked Grady into stopping at a coffee shop on the edge of campus. Inside, he ordered a latte and found a corner table to review his options. The hustle and bustle of students coming and going appealed more than the thought of sitting in his empty apartment.

“Seriously, what is up with the suit?” Penny studied him with a perplexed frown. Dressed in a dark overcoat, a multi-colored knit hat, bright orange gloves and a pair of boots which matched her gloves, she was a splash of color against the walnut wood tones of the shop. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips faintly chapped.

Rising immediately at her presence, he paused and glanced down at his suit and tie. It was what he owned. Armand insisted on appearances, and his previous experience included mostly online classes. He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s appropriate attire for a business meeting.” What else did one call his meeting with Attila the Advisor?

“You’re in college, princeypoo, not at a fortune five hundred company. Hang on, I gotta get coffee. Or a caffeine drip. Or something.” Only then did he notice the shadows beneath her eyes her cosmetics didn’t quite disguise and redness in her eyes themselves.

“Allow me,” he offered, but she waved him back to his seat.

“I got this. I’ll be right back.” She made her way to the counter and placed her order. Once she returned with two cups in hand, he realized she’d purchased one for him, as well. George’s frown deepened. Penny dropped into the seat opposite him and he sat again.

“You should allow me to reimburse you.” He only had a couple of hundred dollars until the following week, but Armand would be timely in his allowance—that much George could be certain of.

“It’s a cup of coffee.” Penny took off her gloves. “You can buy next time, if you’re going to be difficult.” She took a long drink and closed her eyes. An expression of bliss washed over her face. “Oh my God, that’s good.”

Captivated by her obvious pleasure, he forgot to be polite and simply stared.

She wrapped her hands around her cup and sighed happily. “What?”

“Nothing.” Remembering his manners, he switched his attention to the brochures in front of him.

“More papers?” She plucked one from his stack and began to read it. “Oh, you need to choose a focus for your major. Should be easy enough.”

It hadn’t been, not in his experience so far. “Really?”

“Yeah, you pick the one that offers the classes you’re most interested in taking.”

Unless they didn’t offer a career path that benefited the Dagmar Corporation or measure up to the respectability standard demanded by his family name. “And if one doesn’t know what they’re interested in?”

She pursed her lips, expression thoughtful. “Well, that depends. Is it a case of you really don’t know what you’re interested in or are you interested in something that violates a protocol standard?”

Her insights didn’t cease to amaze him. Instead of offering him some vague comfort, she sliced right to the heart of the matter. “How do you do that?” Something in her manner invited him to be equally blunt. The lack of tact flew in the face of his upbringing, but Penny never seemed offended. If anything, her eyes lit up.

“One older sister. Four older brothers. Overprotective parents. If I don’t cut through the bullshit, I end up swimming around in cotton with no idea of what is up or down.”
Rational and clear as mud
. “Besides, you have this sort of lost puppy-dog look. It totally does it for me.”

Lost puppy?
Uncertain of whether to be offended or amused, he favored the former. “I’m not a puppy.”

“Don’t take it badly, princeypoo. I like puppies.”

“My name isn’t princeypoo.” Why was she always laughing at him? Why did he actually enjoy the experience? She should always be happy. Something about her sparkle brightened the world around them.

“I know what your name is, but I’m not going to bend knee in a curtsey or call you your highness. I get there are rules and crap like that, but it’s not me.” More bluntness and he couldn’t look away from the soft curve of her mouth or the daring way she raised her eyebrows at him. “As for the puppy thing? You’re sexy and fine, but your eyes? They’re sad. They remind me of a lost puppy, of someone who just wants a little bit of affection and reassurance.”

Sexy he could work with, but the rest? Women weren’t typically attracted to men they needed to save. The reality of her statement left a bitter taste in his mouth. “I don’t want you on your knees.”
Liar.
He plowed onward. “I would, however, prefer it if you would call me George rather than the other name.”

“Fair deal, George.” She grinned and took another drink. “Now, tell me what the issue is before I turn old and gray. I have to be at a seminar in…” She trailed off and looked at her watch. “Ugh, thirty minutes. I need to never schedule morning classes again, but Bodies wasn’t open at any other time.”

He didn’t think the last part was for him, but he tapped the brochures and answered her earlier question. “If I were perfectly honest, I have no idea what to choose for a major because I didn’t want to go to school in the first place.”

“Yeah? Wow. I love going to school. Did you piss someone off or something?”

“Or something.” He picked up the general studies brochure. “My schedule has been dictated to me since I was a child. I have been told where to go, what to wear, even what to say. Now, I am to have a university education because it has been ordered. If I do not choose my direction, they will choose that, as well.” Maybe letting Armand decide his classes would be for the best. At least then George could be certain his brother would be satisfied with his schedule.

Penny blew out her breath in a low whistle and rubbed her thumb and forefinger together.

“What are you doing?”

“Playing ‘My Heart Bleeds for You’ on the world’s smallest violin. You have a huge opportunity here, and you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Free ride to university? Check. Chance to do whatever you want? Check. Freedom to explore? Check. Don’t know what you want to study? Study it all. If not, tell me three things you like to do.” The swiftness with which she uttered the statements threatened to leave him with whiplash.

Tossing the brochure down, he took a drink of his coffee before answering. “Skiing. I enjoy skiing.” Turning the cup around the table, he considered what else he enjoyed. “Travel—I actually like traveling, particularly to foreign locales where I may or may not know the language.” He spoke a half-dozen, not to mention the varying dialects of those he understood. “I have an ear for languages, so I like learning new ones.”

“Well, there’s something. Put linguistics and culture down on your list.”

Linguistics.
He’d never considered that an opportunity before.

“So, what else?”

For some reason, his time in Belaria flashed through his mind. He’d sat in on political discussions and encouraged the human rights efforts. The country faced tumultuous economic times, with children as young as ten seeking employment or going hungry. Military strong-arm tactics were the accepted rule, which left little room for forgiveness. Yet people, like those he’d met in the Royalist Party, struggled to survive it all and lived on hope.

“Political, social, and economic constructs. Why people do what they do.” He frowned, his memories consuming his focus. “I’m interested in how oppression can lead to misery. Yet amidst that misery, hope still swells and people stand up against unbeatable odds.” Having borne witness to it, he couldn’t help admiring their tenacity and he wished like hell he understood them better. Maybe if he did, he could
do
something…

Penny reached for two of the brochures and settled them on the top. “Histories, Philosophies and Worldviews—a course tract in global liberal studies. Another option would be this one, Politics, Rights and Development.”

Intrigued, George brushed her fingers as he picked up the brochure. The spark of contact sent warmth up his arm.
Politics
. Armand and Sebastian would kill him, yet—he couldn’t help but be fascinated by the prospective class list. Glancing through the second course tract she mentioned, he found several others.

When she touched his hand, this time deliberately, he stilled and met her gaze.

“Here’s a secret, George. Selecting your major means it becomes the course study you direct your efforts toward for the moment. Next semester, next year…or even the year after that? You
can
change your mind and choose a different major.”

“Does that not indicate failure, if you change course midstream and redirect your efforts?”

“Hell no. It’s called education for a reason. Everything you learn, it all builds into the next set of course studies. I’ve had four majors since I came here. I’ve learned so much from every tract I’ve been on, things that made me understand other classes in a way I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t explored. So declare for one of those, but pick the one that has classes you
want
to take. Things you want to know more about. Ignore everything else.” She squeezed his hand once, then withdrew her touch. He missed it almost immediately. “I would stay and help more, but I have to get to class. See you tonight?”

He stood when she did, and she gave him an almost indulgent smile.

“You really need to stop that. Be a college student. Forget the rest of that stuff. And, really? Lose the suit.” Without giving him a chance to say anything else, she was off. He watched her tug on her gloves, shoulder her bag and duck out into the winter chill, no doubt headed to their campus less than a block away.

My campus.
Picking up one of the brochures, he sat slowly and considered the course list.

Politics and worldviews.

The bigger picture.
“Grady?”

“Sir?” His bodyguard stood at the wall table just behind him and two others were across the coffee shop. Unlike George, their mode of dress blended in well to the surroundings.

“I’m going back to the campus to meet with my academic advisor. Again.” He gathered his belongings and glanced at the man. “Then I need to go shopping.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hopefully, he could find a new wardrobe with his slender amount of funds. Penny was right. This was an opportunity. He might as well do what
he
wanted.

S
hutting off the acetylene torch
, Penny set it aside before lifting her faceguard and studying her progress. The full sized piece was her first attempt at twisting iron and steel into a pair of warriors battling. Currently, it looked more Sponge Bob than Spartacus, but she had time.

Sweat streamed down her face. She stripped off her heavy, flameproof gloves to grab a damp cloth and wash her face. The water bottle she’d opened earlier was already empty, so she carried it over to the tap and refilled it. She’d worked hard the last three years, and one of the perks of senior project meant she had studio space dedicated to her work. Welding meant she rarely had to share the space. Panting, she crossed over to the exterior door and dragged it open to let in a blast of icy air. Plunging outside so her metal didn’t cool too quickly, she let the snow swirling through the air melt on her cheeks.

The buzzing of her phone had her scrambling to reach inside her overalls. Flipping it over, she sighed.
Anna
. They hadn’t spoken since the night George arrived and announced not only was he moving in, but Armand owned their building. Two weeks, however, was long enough to hold a grudge.

“Hi, you’ve reached the number of Penny Novak, slacker extraordinaire and darling of the college set. How may I help you?”

Soft laughter met her greeting. Penny let herself back into the studio before sweat froze on her skin. “So, you’re talking to me again?”

“Depends.” Playing cagey was always fun. “Who is this? My sister Anna? Or the Grand Duke Douche Bag’s wife?”

“Penny…” So much went unsaid in her sigh. “He meant well.”

“Yeah, a head’s up would have been nice. Buying my building? Installing his brother as my neighbor? Filling my life up with security on our floor and the floor below? Do you have any idea how many parties we used to have there?” And would likely never have again. Still, George wasn’t a bad neighbor.

At least he’d ditched his suits. The last time she’d seen him—that morning over coffee—he’d been wearing a sexy as hell black, long-sleeved shirt and relaxed jeans.
Yeah.
She could so tap that.

Except…

“In my defense,” Anna said, her soothing tone as even as it was amused. “I didn’t
know
he’d taken steps to buy your building and protect you. That said, in
his
defense, he wanted to keep you safe, Pen. You mean the world to me, so why wouldn’t he protect you?”

Hard to argue against emotion. Fortunately, being a bratty younger sister had its advantages. “Maybe. He could have at least reduced my rent. It’s not like he needs the money.”
Okay, that was bitchy.
She added, “Not that I want any more perks. Having the rent-a-cops everywhere and video surveillance kind of creeps me out. At least now I know why they changed the fire escape protocol.”