Want Me (6 page)

“Shannon? Something is wrong. You look terrible.” Ariel put her hand on Shannon’s arm. “I think you should sit down. Have some water.”

Everyone hustled to make sure she was seated, that she had a fresh bottle of water, that she wasn’t too warm or too cold. At least five palms pressed against her forehead. Which was sweet, it truly was.

What mattered most, though, was that she didn’t cry. She wouldn’t, because that’s not what she did, not in front of people. Not because of a man she shouldn’t be thinking about, not like
that.
She was tired, that’s all. No breaks, no sleep, no answers.

Bree, pretty as a picture in her weird purple-and-orange dress, crouched down beside her. “Do you want me to call a taxi? Get you home?”

“No, thanks. I’m just tired. Insomnia. It’s a bitch, but I’ll get over it. I need to sit for a little while. Sip some water. Do you think you can get everyone back on track?”

“Absolutely. But I’ll check with you again later, all right?”

“Thanks.”

Bree squeezed her shoulder and Shannon relaxed as much as she could in the awful plastic chair, letting the commotion wash over her like a wave.

She’d set up the date between Nate and Ariel, she would. Just not right now.

* * *

T
HE
SIXTH
PROPERTY
HAD
seemed so good on paper, standing in the actual living room of the duplex made Nate’s chest hurt. He’d been dreaming if he thought he could get a two-bedroom place for even a million. He turned to his Realtor, Aiko, and shook his head. “I know you warned me. Sorry I’ve wasted your time.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Brennan. You needed to see what’s happening for yourself. If you can believe it, this condo would have sold for twice what they’re asking before the bubble burst.”

“That’s a terrifying thought.” It wasn’t as if it were filthy or had active rat colonies. The problem was the size. He’d lived in New York most of his life, and he’d thought he understood what that meant. But he’d been spoiled. His family home had been a relic, like the Fitzgeralds’, only not as many floors. And not as much warmth, and the windows had been small even after the remodel. This condo looked as if they’d taken a moderately sized one-bedroom and split it into doll-sized rooms. He doubted either bedroom could hold more than a double bed, and that’s with no other furniture included.

“Okay, so, what’s next?”

Aiko smiled cheerfully, even though she had to be exhausted, hauling him all over hell and back looking at inappropriate buildings. “There’s a nice condo in the Lower East Side you might really like.”

“From now on, you lead the way.” He glanced at his watch, surprised that it was after five. “I had no idea it was so late. We can reschedule.”

“It’s not a problem for me, if it’s not a problem for you.”

“Won’t the building manager have an issue?”

“If I wanted to look at anything in this city at midnight, I wouldn’t have a problem. But it’s completely up to you.”

He had a meeting with his attorney tomorrow, but not until eleven. There was one thing that he could do with, though. “One sec,” he said, as he pulled out his cell.

Shannon answered on the first ring. “Hey,” she said.

“Are you still at work?”

“Not at work, but working.”

“Thinking of quitting anytime soon?”

“You read my thoughts,” she said, sounding tired.

“I have a proposition. Meet me at a condo in the Lower East Side and I’ll take you to dinner after. What do you think?”

She was quiet for so long he figured she’d beg off, but then she said, “Where? I’m in Little Italy. If it’s going to take me forever—”

“Hold on. I’m putting you on with Aiko. She has the address.”

The women spoke as Nate rocked on his heels, anxious now to get to the new condo. Or maybe he was just anxious to see Shannon. He wanted her opinion. Her eyes. Hell, he wanted her.

6

S
HANNON
MET
N
ATE
AND
A
IKO
in the lobby of a
twenty-story building. The maintenance of the grounds, grass, shrubbery and
trees was impressive, as was the location itself.

The Realtor, a pretty Asian
woman in her early forties, was dressed impeccably and sensibly in heels
that would merely hurt after a long day, not maim.

Nate looked wonderful. Very Euro
in those crazy slim trousers that did wonders for his butt. Although, come
to think of it, it was probably the other way around. A dark plum shirt
tight enough that it stretched a tiny bit at the buttons. His black jacket
was equally tailored and fit him like a glove. Oh, this had been such a bad
idea.

“It’s on the third floor,” Aiko
said, leading them to the elevator. After a quick ride they went to the
farthest corner unit and she took them inside.

For its location alone, Shannon
could see straight away that the unit was worth considering. It had low
ceilings, standard in high-rise buildings that weren’t off-the-charts
expensive, as were the smallish rooms, but at least the living room would
comfortably hold a couch and a couple of decent club chairs, and there was a
fireplace. Gas, but ah, well.

“This is much better,” Nate
said.

Aiko then led them into the
kitchen. It was a typical New York nightmare, everything crammed into the
size of Shannon’s mother’s pantry. But the cabinetry wasn’t bad, and neither
was the flooring. Stainless-steel appliances. No task lighting, though.
She’d seen professional chefs deal with less.

Aiko told them about the
security, the gym, the laundry room, which was all fine, but the bedrooms
had terrible closets, neither bathroom had a tub and, again, most of the
lighting sucked. Still, there was natural light from two sides, which was a
big deal. Depending on the price, he could do worse.

“It’s seen some interest, but
it’s only been on the market for five days,” Aiko said when they returned to
the living room. “Why don’t you think about it, and give me a call tomorrow.
If you want to see more, we’ll set up times then.”

Nate smiled, put his hand on the
small of Shannon’s back and escorted both women to the door.

Shannon was absolutely,
completely certain that he had not only felt the electrical jolt that had
scorched through her at his touch, but could also sense the full-body blush
that was going to set her on fire if he continued to let his thumb make
little circles on her blouse.

She didn’t breathe much on the
way down, letting out a loud gush of air as Nate stepped away to shake hands
with Aiko.

“It was nice meeting you,” she
said.

Shannon made some sort of sound,
cleared her throat and somehow managed to say, “You, too. Have a good
evening.”

Nate turned to Shannon and
narrowed his eyes. “I was thinking Katz’s.”

“Katz’s sounds
great.”

He held the door open for her,
but didn’t touch her as they left the building. She would tell him about
Ariel the moment they sat down at the deli. He’d be delighted. Why wouldn’t
he be delighted? Ariel was great. Pretty. Shannon had a picture of her on
her cell so she could show him. It would be done in a flash, then she’d have
the matzo ball soup, and they’d talk real estate. She knew a lot about real
estate.

“I’ll warn you right now, I’m
ordering all the stuff I can’t get in Indonesia. A knish, latkes, kishke,
the works.” He grinned.

They walked to the curb, where
they waited to get a cab, as several, occupied, drove by. It was dinner hour
and it would be nuts at the deli, but that was okay, because she was going
to set up the date with Ariel first thing, then it would become easy.
Simple. Eating good things, talking square footage and hardwood
floors.

Finally, an empty cab stopped in
front of them. Nate opened the door, and she jumped inside, grabbing the
door handle in a panic. “You know what, I forgot. I’m supposed to be… I’m
sorry, I have to… I’ll see you at the— Sorry.” Then she slammed the door
shut and pretty much screamed her address at the cabby.

* * *

“W
HAT
THE
HELL
WAS
THAT
?”
Nate said, to no one in particular. Stunned, he
watched the taxi weave into the bumper-to-bumper traffic as he tried to
interpret the past few minutes.

He was certain she hadn’t
forgotten anything. Unless the thing she’d forgotten was hugely
embarrassing, but that seemed unlikely.

Had he said something out of
line before the deli talk? He reran the evening as nearly as he could
remember and nothing jumped out at him. Nothing even whispered vaguely.
Everything had been fine, then whoosh, she was out of there like a shot, and
her cheeks had burned pink, and he was utterly bewildered.

He debated going after her, but
he doubted she wanted to be chased. So he raised his arm and flagged down
another cab, too dazed to care about how long it took.

The wait at the deli was even
longer. He tried to think about the condo, then about tomorrow’s meeting
with the attorney, but each thought was hijacked by Shannon. He gave in and
picked up one of the free papers at the door and turned to the classified
section. It wasn’t very big, and most of it was for rentals and rent
shares.

It kept him occupied for a
couple of minutes while he stood in line, but then thoughts of Shannon
returned to bedevil him. He wasn’t dim about women. He had enough empirical
evidence to prove it. He was perfectly capable of picking up signals, and
ever since the wedding, he and Shannon had definitely been signaling. Which
was complicated because—

“Oh,” he said aloud, gaining the
attention of the older woman in front of him. He smiled briefly, then went
back to his revelation.

She’d left because of the
signals. The heat between them.

No, wait, that wasn’t quite
right. She’d run because of the complications that came along with the heat
between them. Now everything was falling into place. He sighed, and it must
have been a hell of a sigh because the same older woman put her hand on the
back of her hair, turned and gave him a very disgruntled glare.

He smiled again, dismissed the
notion of apologizing and went back to his theory. Luckily, the unhappy
woman and her group were led to a table, and a few minutes later he was
sitting in a small booth underneath a wall of framed celebrity photographs,
staring at a large menu.

Since he already knew what he
was having, he waited impatiently for someone to take his order, asking
preemptively for take-out containers, then, with his Dr. Brown’s Cream Soda
crackling over ice, he pulled out his cell phone.

He turned it so he could text,
then thought for a moment before he decided to keep things light and easy.
No reason to stir the pot yet.

I can order an extra
knish if you want. Maybe some chopped liver?

Nate smiled at that.
Shannon hated liver in any guise. As the seconds ticked by, his smile faded.
He probably shouldn’t have texted her. She’d left because she was
uncomfortable, and he could only guess at the why. That whole signal thing?
Was that just wishful thinking on his part? He got all hot and bothered when
he touched her, or saw her, or thought of her, but she might not feel a
thing.

Maybe
he
was making her
uncomfortable, not the complications. She’d come to see the condo tonight
because she felt obligated. He was Danny’s best friend, practically part of
their family. Of course she’d agree to come help him find a place. She
wanted him out of the house. Her house. Jesus, what had he—

His phone beeped, notifying him
of an incoming text. He clicked it so fast he almost dropped the
phone.

Thanks, but that’s ok.
Sorry I ran off.

Don’t worry about it.
Stuff happens.

It was rude. I wanted to
ask you something.

I’m all ears. Or eyes, I
suppose.

Nate tensed. He felt
it from his neck to his calves. It didn’t make a lot of sense, considering
she was probably going to ask him something completely innocuous.

U interested in dating
while you’re in town?

Dating? She was
asking him on a date? On the cell phone? So he’d been right. It was about
the signals. He’d known it, dammit. Things didn’t get that hot between two
people without both of them knowing. Especially when one of them had worn
nothing but a towel and a rising hard-on. But he still had to play it cool.
It would be a damn shame to scare her off now.

Sure. What did u have in
mind?

He sipped his soda
as he waited. And waited. It must be one hell of a long text because she was
taking her sweet time. His food came, and he kept watching the phone as the
waitress arranged the big plates on the small table. Finally, another
ding.

He was back to tense in a
second, only this time it was with eager anticipation.

My cousin Ariel met u at the wedding.
She’d like to meet u for drinks tmrow nite at Molly’s. She’s great. Pretty.
You’ll like her.

The breath he’d been holding
rushed out of him, smothering the spark starting to flame. He didn’t
remember meeting anyone named Ariel at the wedding. He had no interest in
going for drinks with Shannon’s cousin. How the hell had he gotten things so
screwed up?

Sure. Send me her #. I’ll
call.

His typing was slow,
each word a punch to his gut. It wasn’t easy to press Send, but he
did.

The pause that followed gave him
enough time to realize the containers the waitress had brought weren’t going
to be sufficient. His hunger had vanished, and while he wanted to walk out
and leave it all behind, he wasn’t going to. That would be ridiculous.
Shannon wasn’t intentionally hurting him. There was nothing between them,
couldn’t be anything between them. Any interest he’d experienced had been
one-sided. It happened. Not to him, not before now, and that was why he was
caught off guard. Hell, he was just her brother’s friend, that’s
all.

In fact, what she was doing was
something friends did. It was nice of her to set him up. A few dates would
keep him from getting bored as he waited to get back to his real
home.

The beep sounded, and he hoped
it wasn’t her saying goodbye.

It was.

* * *

S
HANNON
KNEW
HE
WAS
HOME
.
Not because she’d heard him—the one thing this old
brownstone had was excellent soundproofing as long as there weren’t
connecting walls. No, for some reason she couldn’t fathom, Danny had knocked
on her damn door and announced Nate’s arrival. At least her brother hadn’t
opened the door. He knew better. But she especially didn’t want Nate to see
her like this. In her flannel nightgown, scrunched under her covers, TV on
some show she didn’t care about, her laptop open on some website on
marketing she hadn’t bothered to read and a big bowl of Kraft’s blue box of
macaroni and cheese in her hands, the alarmingly orange pasta being devoured
as quickly as she could shove the spoonfuls in her mouth.

She hummed a bar of “I Feel
Pretty” then sagged against her pillows. How had her life come to this? And
why,
why
was the nonstarter with Nate the thing that was crushing her
chest?

It must be transference. Better
to obsess about a guy than the very real fear that she couldn’t save the
plant. That no matter how many times she thought things would be okay, that
the family would move on, that the struggle to hold on to a building and a
brownstone when they were worth enough that her whole family could be secure
for the rest of their lives was idiotic… .

Yes, better to think about a
guy, when the truth was, she couldn’t let the business go. Everything in her
believed in holding on. That what her family had was precious and worth
keeping, and that money—even barrels of money—was no replacement for the
legacy, the lessons, the heart and soul generations had dedicated to this
life.

Maybe her crush—and was there
ever a more appropriate word?—on Nate was another way to cling to her past.
It probably had nothing to do with the man he was now. But what he
represented. Continuity. Treasured memories.

She put the almost empty bowl on
her nightstand, wanting to weep. She should never have taken those
psychology classes at City College.

Finding the remote, she clicked
off the TV, then logged off her computer and slipped it under her bed. One
click and the room fell dark, except for the alarm clock that mocked her
with it’s big red 8:30. She’d never fall asleep this early. Or at all. It
was ludicrous to try, but she shut her eyes anyway.

She had no idea what she was
going to do tomorrow. How she was going to face Nate. She was a decent
actress, but no one was that good. He’d see too much if he got a look at
her. Pain, lust, jealousy, sadness. Or maybe that had just been her when
she’d looked in the mirror before climbing into bed.