Almost Like Love (8 page)

She looked thoughtful. “Can I let you know in a few days?”

“Of course. The second thing is actually a favor.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Another favor?”

“It’s actually the same one—or a continuation of it.”

“Meaning?”

“During this time of transition—”

“For which I have you to thank—”

“I wondered if you would consider watching Jacob a couple of times a week.”

There was a short silence. “I have to be honest, Hart—I’m a little surprised that you’re asking me. Our relationship isn’t too amicable, and my last babysitting gig for you didn’t end well.”

“That’s a fair point.” He paused. “The truth is, it was Jacob’s idea. The woman who’s been watching him Tuesdays and Fridays—the same woman who was supposed to watch him yesterday—isn’t available anymore. We were talking about it this morning, and Jacob suggested that I ask you about it. Of course I told him you might not be able to,” he added quickly. “But if you could do it—even for just a few weeks—well, I think it would mean a lot to him. He’s usually so quiet, and this morning he couldn’t stop talking about you. It was nice to see him so animated.” He paused again. “Of course, since this would be a more regular arrangement, I’d pay you whatever you—”

“Will you stop with the money thing? If I agree to help you out, it’ll be because Jacob’s a nice kid and I enjoy his company.”

He frowned. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that. You’re unemployed, and you’d be providing a service. You should be paid for your time.”

“It’s very nice of you to worry about my finances,” she said drily. “But I have enough in savings to make it through this ‘time of transition.’ And even if I didn’t, I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, right? You can’t think my parents would let their spoiled princess struggle.”

He winced. “Okay, fine, I deserved that. Do you need me to apologize again?”

“I think once is enough. And I’d be glad to watch Jacob on Tuesdays and Fridays, at least for a while.”

Relief swept through him. “That’s great. I really appreciate it, Kate.”

When had this started to matter so much? It wasn’t like the world would come to an end if his nephew didn’t see Kate again.

Or if he didn’t.

Ian glanced around her living room before he let his gaze return to her. With her legs tucked under her like that and a few soft curls escaping from her ponytail, she looked as warm and inviting as her apartment.

It dawned on him that his relief was as much for his own sake as for Jacob’s. Because he did want to see her again.

Three days ago, Kate Meredith had been on his top-ten list of people to avoid. They’d rubbed each other the wrong way from the moment they’d met, and even though he’d felt bad about cancelling her show, he hadn’t felt bad that he wouldn’t be seeing her again.

Now, just seventy-two hours later, the idea of Kate disappearing from his life was unacceptable.

He remembered the kiss against her wall, and his body tightened.

Who would have guessed that head-in-the-clouds Kate Meredith had that kind of sexual fire inside her? He’d never suspected it—and it was obvious her idiot ex-fiancé had never touched that part of her.

Maybe nobody had.

His body tightened again. The thought was unexpectedly arousing.

He could reach that part of her. He could take her places she’d never dreamed of.

Was it so crazy to think that the two of them might get together? Not right away, of course—she’d just broken up with her fiancé. But after a month, or even a few weeks . . .

Of course they’d have to be sure that whatever happened between them didn’t affect Jacob. When things ended, it would be important to end them amicably.

The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. They’d never work as a couple; they were too different, and he didn’t do relationships. But why couldn’t he be her rebound guy? Her friend Simone had said she needed to cut loose. Maybe she could do that with him.

The idea of cutting loose with Kate kicked his pulse into high gear.

Come to think of it, they had all the necessary qualifications for a classic fling—off-the-charts chemistry and no long-term potential. And when he remembered the way Kate had responded to his kiss, it was hard to believe she’d say no. Hadn’t she said Friday night that she wanted a bad boy she could use for sex?

She could use him for sex anytime she wanted.

“There is one thing I think we should address,” Kate said.

Great—she was going to bring up the sports thing again. He steeled himself for an argument.

“Shoot.”

Kate shifted her position in the chair, untucking her feet and crossing her legs. “I’m sure this goes without saying, but I think it’s important that we avoid any encounters like . . . well . . . what happened when Chris was here. Of course, there’s no reason to think anything like that would happen again,” she added quickly. “But I thought we should, you know, establish that formally.”

“Establish it formally,” Ian repeated.

She nodded. “Yes. To make it clear we’re not going to cross that line. Not that we would, of course. It’s not like we’re really attracted to each other or anything. Friday night we were both drinking, and today you were just helping me out with Chris. But I thought we should make it clear.”

“I see.”

He didn’t say anything else, and as the silence stretched out, Kate’s cheeks turned pink.

“I’m not saying I didn’t appreciate your, um, help. With Chris. But since we’re not, as I said, really attracted to each other . . .” Her voice trailed off.

Did Kate honestly believe that? Or was it just something she needed to say for her own peace of mind?

When he realized he was pissed off, he got even more pissed off. What the hell did it matter to him if Kate wanted to pretend there was no chemistry between them? If he was in the mood for a fling, there was no shortage of willing women in Manhattan. He sure as hell didn’t need to go after this one.

“Good point,” he said, getting to his feet. “Well, then. You’re sure you don’t mind watching Jacob?”

Kate stood, too, looking relieved. “It’ll be my pleasure. Give me a call later, and we’ll work out the details.”

That was the real reason he’d come to see Kate—to apologize for last night and ask her to watch Jacob. He was here for his nephew’s sake, not his. So, mission accomplished. Right?

He headed for the door and Kate came with him.

When he turned to say goodbye, he realized he was still pissed off . . . and turned on. It was an unsettling combination.

“Is everything all right?”

He frowned at her. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“You’re kind of . . . scowling.”

Her words made him scowl more. “I’m fine,” he said brusquely.

Another few curls had escaped her ponytail. They made a kind of aureole around her face, and that, along with her rosy cheeks and big blue eyes, made her look sweet and innocent.

But he knew, now, the fire that lay behind that innocence.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out and tucked one of those coppery curls behind her ear.

He was pretty sure he’d never noticed a woman’s ears before, since he was usually focused on more traditionally appealing attributes. But now he found himself staring at Kate’s.

They were as perfectly formed as the rest of her, with a translucent, shell-like delicacy. She flushed under his gaze, and because he was standing close, he could watch the progress of the heat that crept into her face, staining that perfect skin with a rosy glow.

Her earlobes turned pink, and it took a real effort of will not to close his teeth over one.

His eyes met hers. “It’s a good thing we’re not attracted to each other,” he said. “Because otherwise, I might misinterpret that blush.”

It was her turn to scowl. “I’m not blushing.”

The lie was so blatant that he couldn’t resist trying to make her blush even more. He tucked another curl behind her ear, and this time he let his hand linger, tracing the line of her ear with a fingertip. Then he trailed his fingers down the side of her neck.

Her breath came faster, and her cheeks were so red she looked as if she’d been hiking in the Alps.

“Yeah, you’re not blushing at all,” he said, his voice low and intimate as his eyes locked on hers again. “My mistake.”

Then he backed off, giving her a smile as he opened the door. “I’ll call you in a few days about Jacob. Take care, Kate.”

A minute later, heading down to the lobby, Ian wondered why he still felt unsettled—and why he wasn’t feeling more satisfaction at having made Kate blush like that. Then he caught sight of his reflection in the metal wall of the elevator.

Maybe it was because if Kate had looked down, she would have noticed that his body was reacting just as powerfully as hers.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

S
o, Kate . . . tell us about this rebound fling of yours.”

That was Jessica, her eyes alight with curiosity. When Kate glanced around the table at the other women sitting there, she saw avid interest but no surprise—which meant that Jessica had already informed them of Kate’s supposed adventures.

Of course she had.

Simone, sitting on her left, chimed in. “Yeah, Kate, tell us. We’re all agog.”

Kate kicked Simone’s ankle before smiling at the other six bridesmaids. It was Thursday, which meant that they were at the Ritz-Carlton having afternoon tea, a ritual Jessica had instituted a few months ago. She used this weekly meeting as a chance to go over wedding-planning details, to talk about her latest hair and makeup ideas for The Day, and, of course, to gossip.

“There’s not much to tell,” Kate said, going for a blasé tone—the tone of a woman who ate men like Ian Hart for breakfast.

But then she flashed back to the kiss in her apartment, and her lips tingled from the memory of Ian’s hot, hard, demanding mouth.

She felt her face heating up as she continued. “It was just a hookup. No big deal.”

Jessica looked at her in exasperation. “At least give us some details. What does he look like, for starters?”

“I can tell you that much,” Simone said smugly. “I’ve met him.”

This elicited a chorus of questions from the bridesmaids.

“What’s he like?”

“What’s his name?”

“Is he hot? I bet he’s hot.”

“ 
‘Hot’ doesn’t begin to describe it,” Simone said, giving Kate a sideways grin. Kate attempted to shoot daggers with her eyes, but like so many other great metaphors, it wasn’t possible in real life.

Simone leaned back and crossed her legs. She made an interesting contrast with the elegantly brocaded armchair, dressed as she was in black leather and combat boots.

“He’s tall and built like a mixed-martial-arts fighter. He’s got the kind of upper body that makes you imagine him in bed, supporting his weight with his arms . . . the way his chest and shoulders and biceps would be all rock-hard, you know? Not to mention other parts of him. His face is rugged—firm jaw, sexy cheekbones, the whole package. He’s got green eyes and black hair. His arms are covered in these gorgeous tattoos—”

“Tattoos? He’s got tattoos?” Jessica sounded intrigued and titillated.

“Yep.”

In spite of herself, Kate couldn’t help feeling a little pleased at the reactions of the other women. She was so used to being the one with no wild escapades or tales of seduction to share.

The truth was, it was kind of fun to be seen as a woman who could bag a sexy bad boy. But it was probably time to change the subject. “Okay, I think that’s enough about my rebound fling. Jessica, weren’t you going to tell us something about our dresses? You said it was urgent,” Kate reminded her.

Jessica wavered a moment, torn between the salacious details of Kate’s adventure and the overmastering importance of anything related to her wedding.

The wedding won out, as Kate had known it would.

“Well,” Jessica said, leaning forward, “I had an inspiration. As some of you know, my sister has never been thrilled with her bridesmaid dress.”

“It makes me look like a Twinkie shrink-wrapped in cellophane,” Vicki said.

Kate hid a smile. She’d always liked Vicki, who never hesitated to speak her mind.

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I was talking with the people at Rosalind’s, and they said they could scrap the original design and make everyone brand-new dresses from scratch.”

“For a small fortune,” Vicki added. “A fortune that could be better used to fund a hospital wing or something like that. But since I no longer have to look like a sausage about to burst its skin, I’m all for it. Although I am making a large donation to cancer research out of guilt.”

Maria, a childhood friend of Jessica’s, shook her head slowly. “I can’t believe you’re changing the bridesmaid dresses this close to the wedding. Are you sure they’ll be done on time?”

Vicki snorted. “Considering the size of the check our father gave them, they could afford to construct a time machine to give them any extra cushion they might need.”

That was actually a pretty cool idea.

“A time machine for a dressmaker,” Kate mused. “I love it. You could do a modern retelling of the Cinderella story with the fairy godmother as a—”

“Please don’t do that thing right now,” Jessica interrupted.

“What thing?”

“That turning-everything-into-a-story thing. This is real life, remember?”

Right, real life. Which, as always, was sadly inferior to Kate’s imagination.

“There is one thing I need you all to do,” Jessica went on. “Rosalind’s scheduled us for a fitting tomorrow night, so—”

“No can do,” Simone put in. “I have to be at the theater to meet the new director.”

“I have plans, too,” Kate said. “I’m babysitting.”

“Babysitting?” Jessica looked flummoxed for a moment, then perked up almost immediately. “That’s no problem. You can bring her along.”

“It’s a him, and I can’t drag an eleven-year-old boy to a dress fitting.”

Jessica waved her objection away. “If he’s got a Nintendo or whatever, and if he’s anything like Heather’s kids, he won’t even notice where he is.”

Heather herself spoke up. “Speaking of my kids—and believe me, they’re the only reason I know this—there’s a comic book store right next to Rosalind’s. That might tempt him.”

Kate thought about it. She knew the store Heather was talking about—it was a geek paradise.

“Well . . . I’m supposed to pick up Jacob after school tomorrow. I’ll check with him, and if he’s okay with it, I’ll let you know. That’s the best I can do.”

Jessica looked at Simone. “What about you? When are you meeting your director?”

“Eight o’clock.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. The fitting is at six. My driver can take you to the theater afterwards.”

Simone shook her head. “There’s a kind of insouciant greatness to your noblesse oblige.”

Jessica made a face. “As usual, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Is that a yes, or what?”

“Oh, I suppose so. Might as well get it over with.”

“Great.” Jessica wore the satisfied expression of a bride who’s just gotten her way. “We’ll meet at Rosalind’s at six. It’ll be fabulous.”

Fabulous.

The next afternoon was as perfect as only a few days in May ever are. When Kate met Jacob in front of his school, which turned out to be ten blocks south of her apartment, she asked how he wanted to get home.

“We can take a cab if you like, but it will only take twenty minutes to walk across the park. Of course, it’ll be a little longer if we stop to get pretzels on the way.”

“Let’s walk!” he said immediately, and Kate couldn’t have agreed more.

A little while later, when they were sitting on a bench eating their pretzels, Kate told Jacob about the fitting.

“I promised my friend I’d ask you about it, but if you don’t want to go, that’s okay.” She popped the last bit of pretzel into her mouth. “I was told to mention, though, that Ezra’s Entertainment is right next door to the boutique. Have you ever been there?”

Jacob shook his head, his cheeks bulging with the enormous bite he’d just taken.

“It’s one of the best comic stores in the city. They have posters and tee shirts and games, too. We can hang out there until it’s my turn to try something on.”

Jacob had to finish chewing before he could answer. “Sure, that sounds great. I’d go even if it wasn’t next to a comic store. I can always bring a book or my tablet or whatever.”

Kate grinned at him. “You’re a pretty decent kid, you know that? In spite of the fact that you enjoyed the
Star Wars
prequels and have never watched the classic episodes of
Doctor Who
. These are faults of youth and can therefore be forgiven.”

Jacob rolled his eyes, but he’d taken another bite of pretzel and was too busy chewing to answer.

Her phone rang, and she fished it out of her purse. When she saw it was Ian, a little jolt went through her system.

She wished that would stop happening. When he’d called earlier in the week to ask if she could watch Jacob today, her heart had jumped as if she were a teenager hearing from the cutest boy in class. After the call had ended, she’d found herself singing “I Feel Pretty” from
West Side Story.

For a grown woman, that was downright embarrassing. Especially considering she’d made such a point of establishing that nothing was going to happen between them—not to mention their lack of attraction for each other.

Yeah, right.

The truth was, she didn’t think she’d ever been as attracted to a man as she was to Ian Hart. Until now, she hadn’t known she could feel that way about a man she didn’t even like.

Unless it was
because
she didn’t like him.

Well, why not? If you imagined yourself with a guy you didn’t like, emotion wouldn’t enter into it. There’d be no girlish dreams of happily-ever-after.

Just raw, primitive, mind-blowing sex.

Not that she would ever fantasize about Ian, of course.

She got up from the bench before she took his call. She felt more in control when she was on her feet, and with Ian Hart she needed every possible advantage.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, yourself. Any problems picking up Jacob?”

She tried to ignore her body’s response to the whiskey-rough timbre of his voice. “Not at all. It’s such a gorgeous day we decided to walk home, and we’re currently eating soft pretzels in Central Park.”

“Must be nice. I just came out of a meeting and I’m on my way to another one. I haven’t been outside all day.”

“Poor baby. Of course the fact that you’re gainfully employed is probably some consolation.”

“I offered to gainfully employ you, remember? You were the one who insisted on doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”

“I wanted to show you that some people actually have one.”

He chuckled. “I have a heart. It’s just two sizes too small.”

Her eyebrows rose. “A Dr. Seuss reference? I’m impressed. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed your tendency to underestimate me.”

When she realized their back-and-forth was making her smile, she decided it was time to change the subject. “I’m actually glad you called. I need to check with you about something.”

She told him about the fitting that evening and Jacob’s offer to come with her. “We wouldn’t be back late—probably around eight or eight thirty. It’s not a school night, but even so, if you’d rather he stayed home, I completely understand. It wouldn’t break my heart to skip a fitting with Bridezilla.”

“No, you should go. And I might be able to get you out a little early, if it’s okay with your friend—and if you’re amenable.”

“You could suggest anything to get me out early, up to and including helping you bury a body, and I’d be amenable.”

He chuckled again. “A friend of mine has three tickets to the Yankees game tonight and can’t use them. They’re fantastic seats, field level on the third-base line. I know you’re not a sports fan, but I thought you might—”

“They’re playing the Red Sox tonight,” she interrupted.

“You know that? I’m impressed. I wouldn’t have thought you’d know the first thing about the Yankees’ schedule.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed your tendency to underestimate me.”

“Funny girl. So does this mean you’re actually a Yankees fan?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“I guess that was too much to hope for. But what about going to the game tonight? Are you interested? Or is sitting through three hours of baseball your idea of torture?”

“Let me check with my partner in crime.” She’d walked a few paces away during their conversation, and now she turned back towards Jacob as she lowered the phone. “How would you feel about going to a Yankees game tonight?”

His forehead wrinkled. “Well . . . are you going to be there?”

“Yes.”

“Then sure.”

She lifted the phone again. “We’re on, Hart.”

“Great. First pitch is at 7:05, but we’ll have to be a little late, since I can’t leave work until six thirty. Will it be okay with your friend if I pick you and Jacob up at seven? That’ll get us to the stadium by the second inning.”

“Absolutely. I’ll text you the address of the boutique, and we’ll be waiting out front at seven sharp.”

After the call ended, she and Jacob started walking again. She didn’t realize she was grinning until Jacob said, “You look happy. I guess you really like baseball, huh? I don’t understand why people love it so much. I think it’s totally boring.”

“That’s because no one ever made it into a story for you.”

“A story? What do you mean?”

“Pull up a chair, Jacob—metaphorically speaking. I’m going to tell you about the curse of the Bambino.”

“There’s a curse involved? That does sound cool.”

“It is. Would you mind if we take a detour to my apartment? There’s something I’d like to pick up for tonight.”

“Will I be able to meet Gallifrey?”