One Hit Wonderful (3 page)

Chapter Two

It was almost three the following afternoon before Lily had a free moment to call about the apartment. The debutante reunion luncheon had included frozen peach Bellinis, and since from what she could see none of those women ever ate any actual food, she’d had a very tipsy bunch of aging debs on her hands. They’d wanted to find a strip club and see some “beefcake”, but she’d finally gotten them settled around the pool with the promise that David, the afternoon lifeguard, would be more than adequate for their beefcake needs.

“Thank God David’s a good sport,” she said, and the front desk clerk laughed.

“Jeez, who’d have thought a bunch of rich society babes could throw down like that?” Katie shook her head and sent her pert cap of dark hair swinging. “I bet if you got a few more drinks in them, they’d be swinging from the chandeliers.”

Lily eyed the antique crystal fixture that hung in the hotel lobby. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” She turned to Katie. “Can you handle things for a moment out here? I need to step back into the office and make a quick phone call.”

“Sure.” Katie’s cherubic face went from grinning to curious. “Calling about that apartment?”

Lily nodded. “Do you know where Ivy Lane is?”

“Sure, it’s over on the west side of campus, about a mile past the big bookstore. It’s a cute neighborhood. You’d really like living there.”

“Let’s hope so, because it’s not like I have a lot of choices left,” Lily muttered as she walked around the reception desk toward the office. “If the place has central heat and doesn’t cost a fortune, I’m taking it.”

“Good luck!” Katie called cheerfully, and Lily smiled back at her before shutting the office door.

She went to the desk and picked up the phone, punching in the numbers on the flier. She let her eyes wander around the office as she listened to the rings, and her eyes settled on the photograph sitting on the bookshelf. Since she shared the office with one other manager and two assistants, there wasn’t a lot of room for personal belongings, but she hadn’t been able to resist that one photograph. Taken in college, the silly shot of her, Bridget and Charles hanging upside down from the great oak tree in front of the main campus building always made her smile.

Today it produced a sentimental tug at her heart as she remembered Bridget had left that morning for Hawaii. She was determined to make the most of her solo honeymoon, as she was calling it, and regain the independence she’d sacrificed during her relationship with Max.

Lily was happy for her friend and proud of her determination to put the disaster of a broken engagement behind her, but she couldn’t help feeling a little lonely without her. Bridget had been the first friend she’d made when she returned to the United States to attend university. She’d been lonely, homesick, and experiencing more than a little culture shock. A liberal college campus in Colorado was a far cry from the all-girls boarding schools she’d attended in London, and she’d felt painfully isolated from her peers. Then she met Bridget in freshman Humanities class, and everything turned around. She smiled as she recalled that first day—shy and deep in the throes of self-pity, she’d barely noticed when someone sat down next to her. Then Bridget had leaned over and made a joke about their professor, who bore an unfortunate resemblance to Fidel Castro, and Lily had laughed before she remembered to be depressed.

And that was that. They’d been best friends in college, roommates since graduation, and even though she’d been preparing herself for it since Bridget and Max announced their engagement, saying goodbye was proving harder than she’d thought.

She was jerked out of her maudlin thoughts when the phone clicked in her ear. She opened her mouth to speak when she realized an answering machine had picked up.

“It’s Nate, I can’t talk. You know what to do.”

She was caught completely off guard by the beep, and fumbled for words. “Hi. Um…I’m calling about the apartment for rent? I’d really like to come by and see it, maybe this afternoon if possible. You can reach me—”

She broke off with a wince as the machine suddenly screeched in her ear. She heard a clatter, a burst of static, and then as clear as if he were standing beside her, a rough male voice.

“Wait, I’m here.”

“Uh…hi.”

“Yeah?”

Rude,
Lily thought, but resolutely plowed ahead. “I’m calling about the apartment.”

“How’d you hear about it?”

“Yes, I’d— What?”

“How did you hear about it?” he asked again, deliberately slowing his words, and she added mentally added
obnoxious
to her assessment of him.

“You put up a flier in the drugstore,” she retorted, not bothering to keep the chill of annoyance from her voice.

He chuckled, the sound coming over the line to dance along her nerve endings like fingers fluttering down her spine. She squirmed before she could stop herself.

“Right, last night.” His voice took on a hollow quality and she pictured him tucking the phone into his shoulder. “You want the apartment?”

“I—” She floundered for a moment before setting her teeth with a snap. “I’d like to see it first and find out what you want to charge for rent.”

“Sure, we can talk about that,” he said agreeably, and for some reason his easy manner made her want to grind her teeth. “You wanna come by and take a look this afternoon?”

“Yes, I would,” Lily said, her voice going prim as her annoyance escalated. She couldn’t say why, but this guy was getting on her nerves. “Would four thirty be all right?”

“Sure, I’ll be around. Three-fourteen Ivy Lane. If I don’t answer the bell, just go on around the house to the garage. The stairway to the second floor is enclosed, just look for the blue door on the side. Feel free to take a look around. I’ll catch up with you sooner or later.”

“If four thirty isn’t a good time,” Lily began, but he cut her off.

“Four thirty’s fine. You got a name?”

Rude, obnoxious and completely without manners,
she decided. “Lily,” she said, forcing her jaw to unclench to form the words. “Lily Michaels.”

“See you at four thirty, Lily Michaels.” And the dial tone sounded in her ear.

“What a jerk,” she muttered.

* * * * *

“What a tight-ass,” Nate MacIntyre said, and grinned at his companion. “Sounded hot though. That slight hint of an English accent. I couldn’t really hear it until she started to get pissed. The accent comes out with the temper.”

Beau rolled his expressive brown eyes and shook his head.

“Yeah, I know I was a little rude. I couldn’t help it, that prim little tone got under my skin. She sounded a lot more interesting once she got mad.” Nate leaned forward, his hands dangling between his spread knees as he spoke. “I bet she’s the corporate type, proper and strict with sensible shoes. But underneath she’s full of surprises, all soft, sweet-smelling skin and naughty lingerie.”

Beau just grunted and rolled over.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out at four thirty.” Nate got to his feet and stretched, feeling loose and rested. He’d finished the last of the carpentry work in the apartment late last night. Riding on the energy of it, he’d grabbed a piece of bright paper left behind by one of his nieces and drawn up a quick flier. He hadn’t expected any calls on it today; after all, he’d only posted the one flier at the first drugstore he’d come across. But if it rented right away, so much the better.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, grimacing at the scratch of rough beard. He tended to let the details like grooming get away from him when he was immersed in a project. A quick glance in the mirror over the den fireplace confirmed that he needed a haircut too; the long strands tickled his collar, or would have if he was wearing a collar. He wondered how the proper-sounding Ms. Michaels would react to five days’ growth of beard and a stained Grateful Dead T-shirt.

Maybe he’d shower and shave before she came, just to be on the safe side. No sense in making a bad impression on purpose. But the last week of eighteen-hour days hadn’t left much time for recreation, and since he had a good hour and a half before he had to play landlord, he wanted a game of Frisbee in the park with his best pal.

“Beau,” he whispered, and watched the big brown eyes roll toward him. “Frisbee?”

Beau’s head snapped up, his wrinkled face creased in a wide grin, and Nate found himself pinned to the wall and his face bathed in kisses.

“Okay, okay!” he laughed, and swiped at his face. “Come on, buddy. Let’s roll.”

* * * * *

At four thirty on the nose, Charles pulled his orange VW Bug to the curb at 314 Ivy Lane, turned off the ignition and looked at the house. “God, it’s so cute!”

Lily was forced to agree. It was gorgeous, a two-story brick colonial with ivy climbing the exterior and cheerful gardens out front. A long driveway snaked past the side of the house, leading, she assumed, to the garage. It was lovely, she realized, and her heart sank.

“It’s gorgeous,” she sighed. “It’s going to be too much rent.”

“Oh, cheer up. Maybe the place is a dump!”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Charles, that’s very helpful.”

Charles just grinned and opened his door. “This guy’s meeting us?”

Lily followed suit and stood at the end of the drive. “He said if he didn’t answer the bell to go ahead and take a look.”

Charles arched his neck to peer up the empty driveway. “I don’t see a car, so maybe he’s not home. Want to just go up?”

“Yeah. That way if it’s a dump, I don’t have to talk to the guy. He sounded like a jerk.”

Charles chuckled as he started up the drive with her. “Let me guess, he wasn’t up to your exacting standards of phone etiquette.”

“There’s just no reason to be rude,” she muttered, getting irritated all over again. “He didn’t even say goodbye, he just hung up.”

“Yeah, that’d drive you nuts,” Charles decided as they turned the curve. He stopped short as the building came into view. “I don’t think it’s going to be a dump, sweetie.”

“Probably not,” she agreed, and kissed her hope that this apartment would be at all affordable goodbye.