Sunset In Central Park

“Technically yes, but her mother’s sick so I told her to forget it and just get herself home.”

That was typical of Matt. He was a man who appreciated the importance of family. His was a tight-knit unit, not a fractured mess like hers. “She’s not likely to be back soon?”

“No. She’s moving back to Connecticut so she can be closer.”

“Which leaves you without a horticulturist when you’re in the middle of a big project.” Roof terraces were Matt’s specialty, and his projects ranged from residential homes to large commercial properties. “What about the rest of your team?”

“James’s expertise is hard landscaping, and Roxy is keen and hardworking but has no formal training. Victoria had started to teach her the basics but she doesn’t have the skills to put together a design.” He set the bottle down on the table. “I’m going to have to recruit, and hope I get lucky. Fast.” He drank and Frankie eyed the strong column of his throat and the dark, grainy shadow of his jaw. He was strikingly handsome, his body hard and strong. He spent half his working day with his sleeves rolled up covered in dirt, but even dressed casually his innate sense of style shone through. It was that restrained eye for design that had built his business.

If she had been interested in men, he would have been a prime candidate.

But she wasn’t interested. Definitely not.

People told you to play to your strengths, didn’t they? And she was very, very bad at relationships.

Matt put the beer down and for a brief moment his gaze met hers. He gave her a look laden with intimacy and it made her heart pump a little faster and her breathing quicken.

Crap, her mind was playing tricks.

She had an overactive imagination courtesy of an underactive sex life.

She looked away. “I know a lot of people. I’ll make some calls. Roof terraces need special skills. It’s not just about planting pretty flowers. You need trees and shrubs that will provide year-round color.”

“Exactly. I need someone who understands the complexities of the project. Someone skilled and easy to work with. We’re a small team. There’s no room for egos or prima donnas.”

“Yeah, I get that.” It was stupid to be flustered when she’d known Matt pretty much forever. The fact that he’d matured from lanky boy into insanely hot man shouldn’t affect her as much as it did.

He was her best friend’s older brother and he’d grown up on the same island as her, off the coast of Maine. He’d experienced the same frustrations associated with small-town living, although of course his experience had been nothing like hers. No one’s had been like hers.

After her father’s affair had been exposed and he’d left them for a woman half his age, her mother’s response had been to have affairs of her own. She’d told anyone who would listen that she’d married too young and planned to make up for lost time. In an attempt to rediscover her youth and confidence, she’d cut her hair short, lost twenty pounds and started borrowing Frankie’s clothes. There had been no man too young, too old or too married to escape her mother’s attentions.

Frankie had discovered that a reputation wasn’t something that had to be earned. You could inherit it.

No matter what she did, on Puffin Island she’d always be the daughter of “that woman.”

It was as if her identity had merged with that of her mother.

Some of the boys at school had assumed she was the shortcut to a life of sexual adventure. One in particular.

Frankie pushed the memory away, refusing to allow it space in her head. “Do you want something to eat? I don’t have Eva’s skills, but I have eggs and fresh herbs. Omelet?”

“That would be great. And while you do that, tell me about your bad day. Paige said it was a bridal shower.” Matt picked up his beer. “I’m guessing that’s not your favorite thing.”

“You’re right about that.” She didn’t bother denying it. What was the point when Matt already knew her better than most?

“What happened?”

“Oh, you know—usual thing. Groom backed out, bride cried, yada yada—” She smacked the eggs on the edge of the bowl, keeping her tone light, pretending it was of no consequence, whereas, in fact, she felt as if she’d spent the afternoon in a cocktail shaker. Her emotions were both shaken and stirred. Despite her best efforts to suppress them, memories engulfed her. Her mother setting fire to her wedding album and cutting through her dress with kitchen scissors. The agonizing family gathering for her grandmother’s eightieth birthday where her father had brought his new girlfriend and spent the entire afternoon with his hand up her skirt. “Paige rescued the whole thing, of course. She could smooth a storm in the ocean. The food was good, the flowers were spectacular and the bride-to-be’s parents still paid the bill so it had a happy ending. Or as close to a happy ending as life ever gets.” She pulled a fork out of the drawer and beat the eggs the way Eva had taught her, until they were light and fluffy.

“You must have hated every minute.”

“Every second. And the whole of August seems to be nothing but bridal showers. If it weren’t for the fact we’ve only just started the company, I’d take an extended vacation.” She snipped a selection of herbs from the pots on the windowsill. As well as the parsley and basil, there were chives and tarragon all growing in a tangled, scented profusion of green that made her small kitchen feel like a garden. She chopped them and added them to the eggs. “It started me thinking about stuff I haven’t thought about in ages. Why the hell does that happen? Drives me insane.”

His gaze was warm and sympathetic.

“Memories do that to you. They pop up when you least expect them. Inconvenient.”

“Annoying.” She added a knob of butter to the skillet, waited for it to sizzle and then poured in the eggs. “I’m not good at weddings. I shouldn’t be doing them. I’m a killjoy.”

“I didn’t realize weddings were something you could be good or bad at. Surely all you do is buy a gift, show up and smile.”

“The first two parts of that I can handle. It’s the last one that gives me a problem.” She tilted the pan, spreading the mixture evenly.

“The smiling?”

“Yeah, you’re expected to be a cross between a cheerleader and a groupie. The mood should be happy and excited and I just want to warn them to run while they still can. I’m hoping that one day Urban Genie will be successful enough to turn them down and focus on corporate events. I think I’m allergic to weddings in the same way some people are allergic to bee stings.” While the eggs were cooking, she prepared a simple green salad, threw together a dressing of olive oil and balsamic vinegar and put the bowl on the table.

“So the only way to get you to say ‘I do’ would be to give you a shot of adrenaline?” There was humor in his voice and she smiled too as she eased around the edges of the omelet and folded it in half. The surface was golden brown and perfect.

“I’d need more than adrenaline. I’m as likely to say those words as I am to walk naked through Times Square.” She picked up her glass and took a sip of wine. “Look at us. It’s Saturday night and you’re spending it in my kitchen with a deranged cat. And me. You need to get a life, Matt.”

He put his beer down. “I like my life.”

“You’re a man in your prime. You should be on a hot date with four Swedish blondes.”

“That sounds like hard work. It also sounds like something Eva would say, not you.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I try and sound normal.” She took another sip of wine. “When you’re on an alien planet it’s important to try and blend in.”

“You’re not on an alien planet, Frankie. And you don’t have to be anyone you’re not. Certainly not with me.”

“That’s because you already know all my secrets, including the fact that the T-shirt I’m wearing is five years old.” She slid a perfect omelet onto a plate, added a chunk of crusty bread and handed it to him. “Ignore me. I’m in a weird mood tonight. This is what the word bridal does to me. All that talk of fairy-tale romance unsettles me.” And being with Matt unsettled her, too. Being this close to him made excitement shimmer across her skin and desire burn low in her body. She recognized sexual attraction. She just didn’t know what to do with the feeling.

Her phone rang and she checked the caller ID and ignored it.

Perfect timing. If ever she needed to be snapped out of a sexual fantasy it was now.

Matt glanced at her. “Don’t you want to get that?”

“No.”

Curiosity gave way to understanding. “Your mother?”

“Yes. She’s trying to bond with me, but that involves telling me about her latest twentysomething boyfriend, and tonight I’m not in the mood. It’s Saturday night. No one invades my space.”

“I’m invading your space.”

Her heart gave a little kick. “You own the space.”

“So we’re back to owner’s privileges.” Matt gave her a long look and then picked up his fork and started to eat. “Does your mother know you lost your job and set up Urban Genie?”

“No.”

“You’re worried she’d fuss over you? Paige will tell you our mom always says you never stop worrying about your kids.”

Frankie felt a pang. “My mother wouldn’t fuss. She’s not really interested in what I do. As you know, we’re not close.”

“Do you wish you were?”

“No.” She disposed of the eggshells. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s been years since we had a proper conversation about anything. I’m not sure we ever did. Most of our verbal exchanges were on the lines of ‘clean your teeth’ and ‘don’t be late for school.’ I don’t remember ever really talking.” Maybe that was why she wasn’t good at it. Or maybe it was just her nature to be private. “Let’s talk about something else.”

He glanced across the room. “Most people keep pots and pans in their kitchens. You have shelves of books.”

“I can’t fit them all in the living room. And anyway, I love books. Some people like looking at paintings. I like looking at books. What are you reading at the moment?” She relaxed. Books were something they often talked about. It was a comfortable, safe subject.

“Haven’t read anything for a month. Business has exploded. The moment my body hits the bed I’m unconscious.” He took another mouthful of food and glanced at the bookshelf again. “What’s the brown one on the end? I can’t see the title.” His tone was casual and she followed the direction of his gaze.

“It’s Stephen King. The Stand. Why? Do you want to borrow it?”

“No, I have that one, but thanks.” He gave her a thoughtful look and then returned his attention to his food.

Frankie had the feeling she was missing something.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything is great. This omelet is fantastic. I didn’t realize you were such a great cook.”

“Food always tastes better when you’re not the one who cooked it.”

“You’re not eating?”

“I ate some cheese earlier while I started a new book. Reading food.”

He stuck his fork into the salad. “Reading food?”

“Food you can eat while you’re reading. Food that doesn’t require any attention. Can be eaten one-handed while I turn the pages with the other. You don’t know about reading food?”

“It’s a gap in my education.” There was a tiny smile on his lips. “So what else qualifies as reading food?”

She sat down and puffed her hair out of her eyes. “Popcorn, obviously. Chocolate, providing you break it into chunks before you settle down. Chips. Grilled cheese sandwiches if you cut them into bite-size pieces.”

He reached across the table and picked up the book she’d been reading. “The latest Lucas Blade? I thought this wasn’t out for another month.”

“Early copy. Turns out Eva’s favorite client is his grandmother, and I get to be the one who benefits from that friendship.”

“Well, now I understand why you need to eat while you read. I’ll borrow it when you’re done with it. I love his work. So that’s what you were doing when I knocked? You were sitting here reading?”

Frankie nodded. “I’m halfway through chapter three. Gripping.”

He put the book back on the table carefully. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, although I haven’t guessed the twist yet if that’s what you want to know.”

“It isn’t.” He’d finished his food and put his fork down. There was a pause. Her heart started to thud a little harder.

He looked serious, but surely if something was wrong he would have said so right away.

“What do you want to ask me?”

He pushed his plate away and lifted his gaze to hers. “How long have you worn glasses you don’t need?”

Oh, God.

Had he really just said what she’d thought he’d said?

What was she going to say? She looked at him stupidly. “Excuse me?”

“When I knocked on the door you were reading, but I saw your glasses on the stand in the entryway so you can’t be long-sighted. Of course you could be short-sighted, but you read the title of that book perfectly just now. Which leads me to believe you’re neither.” His tone was neutral. “You don’t need them, do you?”

Flustered, she lifted her hand to her face.

Her glasses. She’d forgotten to wear her glasses.

She remembered taking them off when she’d walked through the door. She hadn’t put them back on because she hadn’t been expecting company.

“I need them.” What should she do? She could squint and trip over a chair, but it was a bit late for that. “It’s complicated.” Lame, Frankie. Lame.

“I’m sure it is.” Matt’s tone was gentle. “But the reason you need them has nothing to do with your vision, does it?”

He knew.

Horror washed through her. It was like arriving at work and discovering you’d forgotten to dress. “If you’ve finished, you should probably go.” She snatched the plate from him, her face burning. “Claws is scratching my sofa. And I need to get back to my book.”

The book she could read perfectly well without glasses.

Matt didn’t budge. “We’re not going to talk about this?”

“Nothing to talk about. Good night, Matt.” She was so desperate for him to leave she stumbled over the kitchen chair on her way to the door. The irony almost made her laugh. If she’d done that sooner, he might never have guessed. “Have a great evening.”

He stood up slowly and followed her.

“Frankie—” The gentleness of his tone somehow intensified the humiliation.

“Good night.” She pushed him through the door and Claws shot out with him, clearly unimpressed by the level of hospitality.

Frankie slammed the door, narrowly missing his hand.

Then she leaned against it and closed her eyes.

Crap, crap and crap.

Her cover was totally and utterly blown.

Matt let himself into his apartment and dropped his keys on the table.

He’d known Frankie since she was six years old and for the past ten years, since she’d moved to New York, she’d been a constant feature in his life. He didn’t just know her, he knew her. He knew she burned easily and always wore sunscreen. He knew she hated tomato, romance movies, the subway. He knew she had a black belt in karate. And it wasn’t just those basic facts that he knew. He knew deeper things. Important things. Like the fact that her relationship with her mother was difficult and that her parents’ divorce had affected her deeply.

He knew all those things, but until tonight he hadn’t known she didn’t need the glasses she always wore.

He ran a hand over his face. How could he have missed that?

She’d worn glasses for as long as he could remember, and he’d never once questioned her need for them. He’d noticed that she fiddled with them when a situation made her nervous or uncomfortable, as if they offered her some reassurance, but he’d never understood why her glasses would be reassuring. They were possibly the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. The frames were thick and heavy and an unappealing shade of brown, as if they’d been trodden into a patch of damp earth. They were unattractive, and knowing her the way he did, Matt was sure that was the reason she’d chosen them. They were armor. Razor wire, to repel unwanted intruders.

Relationships, he thought. Was anything in life as complicated?

Claws rubbed against his legs and he bent to stroke her.

Who was going to break the bad news to her that she was cute as hell with or without ugly glasses? The fact that she seemed unaware of it just increased the sexiness level. There was so much she didn’t know about herself.

The cat sprang onto the sofa, digging in her claws, and he gave a humorless laugh.

“Yeah, she’d probably do the same thing if I told her that. Dig her claws in me. Then she’d hide under the kitchen table. You and she have a lot in common.”

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he took the steps up to the roof terrace.

The setting sun sent shards of red and orange over the Manhattan skyline.

New York was a city of neighborhoods, of buildings that rose tall and proud into the sky, of blaring cab horns, hissing steam and the never-ending noise of construction. It was a city of iconic landmarks: the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, the Flatiron Building. The ultimate dream destination for many, and he understood that. Tourists arrived and immediately felt as if they were extras on a movie set. You saw them pointing it out. That’s where they filmed Spiderman, or that’s where Harry met Sally.

And it was a city of individuals. The wealthy, the poor, the lonely, the ambitious. Singles, families, locals and tourists—they all crowded together on this patch of land that nudged the water.

“You going to stand there admiring your kingdom all night or are you going to share a beer with me?”

Matt turned sharply and saw Jake sprawled on one of the loungers, a beer in his hand. He swore under his breath. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Jake grinned. “Big tough guy like you? Never.”

“What are you doing here?” Normally he would have been happy to see his friend, but right now he wanted space to process this new information on Frankie. What else didn’t he know about her? What else was she hiding?

Jake raised the bottle toward Matt. “I’m drinking your beer and enjoying your view. Best view in Brooklyn.”

“You have your own roof terrace. And the reason I know that is because I built it for you. You also have your own beer.”

“I know, but my roof terrace and my beer don’t come with your scintillating company.”

“Last time I looked it was my sister’s scintillating company that was taking most of your time and attention.” He saw Jake open his mouth to speak and cut him off quickly. “Do not even think about telling me what it is about my sister that takes most of your time and attention. I don’t want details. I’m still getting used to the idea that the two of you are together.”

“You’re going to be my brother-in-law. It’s official. There’s going to be a ceremony. In a way you’re marrying me.”

Matt almost cracked a smile. “I’m going to file for divorce.”

“On what grounds?”

“Unreasonable behavior. Breaking and entering and—” he eyed the beer “—theft and misappropriation of property.”

“I always said you would have made a fine lawyer.” Jake leaned back and closed his eyes. “Bad day?”

There had been nothing wrong with his day. It was his evening that hadn’t gone according to plan.

Matt sprawled on the lounger next to his friend. “Have you ever thought you knew someone and discovered you didn’t?”

“Every damn day. What’s her name?”

“What makes you think it’s a woman?”

“If you thought you knew someone and then discovered you didn’t, that person could only be female. Mystery, thy name is woman. And you’re in luck, because Uncle Jake is here to give you advice on that.”

“Or Uncle Jake could just drink his beer and shut up.”

“I could do that, but because I’m your friend I’m going to give you the benefit of my infinite wisdom on the fair sex. Do not expect to understand a woman. You don’t need to. It’s like traveling to a foreign country where you don’t speak the language. You can get by with a few phrases and hand gestures. But don’t tell your sister I said that or she’d throw the ring I gave her into the East River.”

“Talking of Paige, why are you up here with me instead of downstairs with her?”

“She’s taking a call. Building her empire.”

“You couldn’t just hang out until she’d finished? What about Eva?”

“Eva is watching some movie where everyone is kissing and crying so I thought I’d enjoy the sunset and catch up with an old friend.” He eyed the beer and grinned. “And then you showed up. So what happened with Frankie? What did you find out that you didn’t know before?”

“What makes you think this has anything to do with Frankie?”

“Because I’ve known you a lot of years.” Jake took a mouthful of beer. “And you’ve had feelings for Frankie for every single one of those years.”

“How the hell do you know that?” He shifted uncomfortably. “Am I that easy to read?”

“No, but you’re protective of the people you care about, and you’re extra protective when it comes to Frankie. You don’t need to be an expert in human relationships to see that she matters to you. As far as I can see, it’s always been Frankie.”

“Not always. I was engaged to Caroline.”

“A temporary lapse from which you recovered, fortunately for our friendship.”

“You didn’t like Caroline?”

“She was the female equivalent of a hand grenade, a small curved object designed to cause maximum destruction.” Jake paused. “She had me fooled for a while, though. Frankie is nothing like her.”

Matt didn’t disagree. He and Caroline had met in college and their relationship had been more like a kick in the balls than a blow to the heart. It had lasted twelve intense months and it had woken him up to what he wanted. Not just wanted, needed. Trust. Honesty.

“Frankie hides a lot.”

“Maybe, but the difference is that Frankie doesn’t hide it because she’s manipulative or conniving. She hides it because she’s scared. I joke about women being difficult to read but Paige is pretty much an open book and as for Eva—she’s not just an open book, she’s an audiobook. Everything she feels comes out of her mouth with no filter. Which makes it simple for guys like me. But Frankie—” Jake pulled a face “—she’s different. She’s guarded.”

“I know.” Matt didn’t mind the fact that she was guarded. What he minded was the fact that she was guarded around him. Why would she feel the need to wear glasses around him? Didn’t she trust him?

“What? You expect her to open up and spill all her secrets to you?” Jake shook his head. “You expect too much.”

“I expect trust. Is that too much to ask?”

Jake shrugged. “It’s everything. Trust is serious. More serious than sex. Think about it. When you trust someone, you’re giving them the power to hurt you.” He drained his beer. “That’s scary stuff. Like saying, ‘Hey, here’s a really sharp knife. Stab me in the chest with it anytime you like.’”

“I would never hurt Frankie.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“So what is the point?”

“She had a rough time growing up, you know that. Her mom is scary. Remember the last time she visited? She pinned me against the wall. I almost lost my virginity right there in Frankie’s kitchen. It’s no wonder Frankie is guarded.”

Matt remembered Paige telling him that boys had hit on Frankie at school, assuming she was like her mother and that sex was guaranteed.

Like mother, like daughter.

“I don’t know how to handle it.”

“You’ll figure it out. Getting wounded creatures to trust you is your special gift. If you don’t believe me you only have to look at that damn cat.”

“Are you comparing Frankie to a cat?” Matt shook his head. “How did you ever get any woman, let alone my sister?”