Pulse (8 page)

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the address change until this morning." Cassandra pulls open the heavy door of an apartment building in midtown. "I was so busy planning the guest list and getting a gift that I completely forgot we were cooking at his place.

"His place?" I question.  I overheard her talking about her ex on the phone last week. Now I'm wondering if part of the surprise involves him.

"My boyfriend." She blushes at her own words. "Is it possible to have a boyfriend when you're thirty-two?"

"I think it's possible at any age." I laugh as I stand next to her waiting for the elevator to reach the lobby.

"So it's a surprise for your boyfriend?" I'm trying to piece together exactly what we're doing here. Not that it really matters. The fact that she's given me a huge bonus to take care of this private dinner party for eight is really all the explanation I need. This money is going straight into my culinary school fund.

"It's his birthday." She reaches into her pocket. "I got him tickets to a Nets game." She proudly pulls them out and flashes them in the air.

"He's a big sports guy?" I try to keep the small talk going even though the box in my hand that is filled with ingredients for the gourmet dinner I’m about to prepare is so heavy that my arms are slowly going numb.

She nods as the lift arrives and we step in. "He's at the sports bar with his buddies almost every night. He knows I need my time with the kids, so it works out."

"Sounds perfect." I smile.

"How's it going with your guy?" She finally presses the button for the twentieth floor and I feel relief at the prospect of being able to put the box down within the next few minutes.

"Things are better. He's not trolling the club for ladies anymore, at least." I adjust my grip on the box.

"I met my guy at a club too." She fishes in her purse for something. "That club I went to with Rebecca, actually. You know the one.
It's in that hotel in Times Square."

"I guess clubs are the place to find a man in Manhattan." I breathe a heavy sigh of relief as the elevator signals the stop and the doors spring open.

"This way." She points to the left as she pulls a ring of keys from her purse. "Thank god he gave me a set of keys last month or this whole surprise birthday party would have gone to hell."

I laugh as I follow her to a dark oak door marked with a number six.

She only struggles with the key for a moment before she pushes the door wide open. I step through and place the heavy box down on the floor. I shake my arms, hoping to get some feeling back in them before I have to start cooking the five course dinner that Cassandra requested.

"It's a gorgeous apartment, isn't it?" Her voice trails off as she disappears around a corner. "The kitchen is this way, Jess."

I grimace at the thought of picking up the box again. "I'll be right in."

I just need a minute to find some strength in my arms so I soak in the room. It's obvious it's a man's apartment as all the furniture is leather in deep, rich tones. An enormous television adorns the wall above a granite fireplace and a wall of photos leads into the hallway.

"What does your boyfriend do?" I call into the apartment. He has to be in real estate or maybe investments. This apartment, and its view of Central Park had to come at a steep cost.

"He's a lawyer." She pops back into my line of sight.

"It's such a beautiful place." I try not to sound envious. I can't help but be. This is the type of place I hope to live in one day. A place I can call home based solely on my own hard work and determination.

"Look how adorable his niece and nephew are." Cassandra points to a framed picture of two young children adorning the fireplace mantel. "They're not as cute as Allie
and Aaron, but it's close."

I laugh as I pull my eyes along the entire line of pictures. I lean closer when I reach a black and white photograph of a man and a woman.

A key rattling in the door makes Cassandra jump. "Shit. What the hell? How can he be here? He was supposed to be in court until six. It's not even four."

I don't react. My eyes are still fixed on the picture.

I hear the apartment door open as she races towards it. I reach for the picture, pulling it into my hands.

"Why are you here?" Her voice is loud and demanding. "You're ruining my surprise."

"What?" His voice is low and calm. "What surprise?"

"My chef is cooking you a birthday dinner. I've invited all your friends."

I close my eyes. I can't turn around. I can’t do it.

He said he doesn't do relationships.

She said she met him at the same club.

She has keys to his place.

I glance down at the picture again. Nathan's smiling face stares back at me.

"Jess turn around." She calls across the room. "I want you to meet my boyfriend, Nathan."

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Deborah Bladon has never read a romance hero she didn't like. Her love for romance novels began when she was old enough to board the bus, library card in hand to check out the newest Harlequin paperbacks. She's a Canadian by heart, and by passport, but you can often spot her in New York City sipping a latte and looking for inspiration for her next story. Manhattan is definitely her second home.

She cherishes her family and believes that each day is a gift for writing, for reading, and for loving.