Sunset In Central Park (3 page)

She didn’t need to investigate the source of the accident; she already knew.

Not a serial killer, but a cat.

“Claws? Is that you?” Still holding her book, she walked through to the kitchen, saw the soil and shards of terracotta scattered across the floor and a terrified cat with fur the color of marmalade. “Hey—you need to look where you’re walking.”

The cat shot under the kitchen table, eyeing Frankie from a safe distance, her fur almost vertical.

“Did you scare yourself? Because you scared the hell out of me.” Calm, Frankie put her book on the table and stooped to clear up the mess. The cat shrank farther under the table. “What are you doing down here? Where’s Matt? Is he working late?”

Matt, Paige’s brother, owned the house and lived on the top two floors. It was Matt, a landscape architect, who had found the old, neglected brownstone years before and lovingly converted it into three apartments. The four of them lived there in almost perfect harmony. Along with the cat Matt had rescued.

Frankie disposed of the shattered pot and the soil and reached for a tin of cat food. She carried on talking, careful not to make any sudden movements. “Are you hungry?”

The cat didn’t move, so Frankie opened the tin and tipped it into the bowl she’d bought after the cat’s first visit.

“I’ll just leave it here.” She put the bowl down.

Claws approached with the watchful caution she always showed toward humans.

As someone who approached people in much the same way, Frankie empathized.

“I don’t know how you’re getting down from Matt’s apartment, but I hope you’re being careful where you tread. Wouldn’t want you to be hurt.” Although it was a bit late for that. She knew Claws had been abused and neglected before Matt had rescued her. As a result, the cat trusted no one except Matt, and even he was scratched if he made any sudden movements.

Claws sniffed cautiously at the bowl and Frankie stood back, giving the animal space.

Pretending to ignore her, she topped off her wineglass,
cut a few more slices of cheese and sat down at the kitchen table that had been a housewarming gift from her friends. It was her favorite place to sit, especially first thing in the morning. She liked to open the windows and watch the sunlight stream over her garden. It was a suntrap, catching the light and warmth from early in the morning.

“We should probably celebrate.” She raised the glass. “To being single. I can go where I like, do what I like, I’m dependent on no one. I sail my own ship through whichever waters I choose to navigate. Life is good.”

Claws took another sniff at the food, keeping one eye on Frankie.

Finally, she started to eat and Frankie was surprised by the sense of satisfaction that came from knowing the animal was beginning to trust her. Maybe she should get a cat of her own.

Unlike some humans, cats understood the notion of personal space.

She opened the book and started to read where she’d left off.

She was halfway through the third chapter when she heard a knock on the door.

Claws froze.

Frankie pushed a piece of paper in the book to mark her place, trying not to be irritated at the disturbance. “It will be Eva or Paige, so there’s no need to freak out. They’ve probably run out of wine. Don’t break any of my plant pots while I answer the door.”

She tugged open the front door. “Have you drunk so much that you can’t—oh.”

Matt stood in the doorway, although
stood
wasn’t really the right word, she decided. He virtually filled the space. He topped six feet, his shoulders broad and powerful from
all the heavy lifting he did at his job. He could have been intimidating, but a faint smile tilted the corners of his mouth and softened the rough edges of masculinity. There were a dozen reasons why a woman might take a second look at Matt Walker, but it was that bone-melting sexy smile that guaranteed he was never short of female company.

“So far this evening, I haven’t drunk a drop. Hoping to remedy that soon.” He glanced from her to the door. “You should use that security chain I fitted for you.”

“Normally I do. I thought you were Paige.”

He smelled good, she thought. Like summer rain and sea breeze. It made her want to bury her face in his neck and breathe him in.

She wondered which of them would be more embarrassed.

Definitely her. Matt wasn’t the kind of guy who was easily embarrassed.

“Am I disturbing you?” He scanned her damp hair and she pushed at it self-consciously.

When it was wet it turned an unflattering shade. “Rust” one boy had called it at school after she’d been caught in a heavy rainstorm. When she blushed, which she was now doing thanks to her wayward imagination, her face clashed horribly with her hair.

“You’re not disturbing me, but if you’re looking for Paige and Eva they’re up on the roof terrace.”

“I wasn’t looking for them. I’ve lost my cat. Have you seen her?”

“She’s here. Come in. I opened a bottle of wine.” She issued the invitation without a second thought because this was Matt. Matt, whom she’d known forever and trusted.

“You’re inviting me in?” His eyes gleamed. “I’m honored. It’s Saturday night and I know how much you love your own space.”

The fact that he knew her so well was one of the things that made their relationship so easy and comfortable.

“You have owner’s privilege.”

“There’s such a thing? I never knew that. What other benefits am I entitled to that I haven’t been claiming?”

“The occasional glass of wine is definitely on that list.” She opened the door wider for him and he strolled past her into her apartment.

Her gaze lingered on his shoulders. She was human, wasn’t she? And Matt had an impressive set of shoulders. The kind you could lean on, if you were the leaning type. She wasn’t. Even so, there was no denying that the man was sexy from every angle, even from the back. Of course, the fact that she found him sexy was her secret and it was going to stay that way.

She could enjoy her own private fantasy, safe in the knowledge that no one was ever going to find out.

Frankie closed the door behind him. “How did you lose your cat?”

“I left the window open but she’s never had the courage to climb through it before. I don’t know whether to be pleased that she was finally brave enough to explore or worried that she felt the need to escape from me.”

“Mmm, I guess that depends on whether this is a onetime thing. Do women often try and escape from you?”
No,
she thought.
Of course they didn’t.

“All the time. It’s hell on the ego.” He was cool and relaxed and her heart gave a little kick, as it always did around him.

She ignored it, as she always did.

Unlike her mother, she didn’t think sexual attraction was an impulse that had to be acted on. She’d rather have a long-term friendship than short-term sex any day. In fact, there were a million activities more appealing than sex, which
she’d always found to be fraught with complications, unrealistic expectations and pressure.

If they gave out grades for sex, you’d be a D minus, Cole, with nothing for effort.

She frowned, wondering why that memory had come into her head now.

The guy had been a total jerk. She wasn’t going to give a second thought to a man whose ego was so big it had needed its own zip code.

Matt, on the other hand, was a good friend. She saw him most days, sometimes on the roof terrace where they met for drinks or movie night and sometimes at Romano’s, the local Italian restaurant owned by Jake’s mother.

Their friendship was one of the most important relationships in her life.

Which was one of the reasons she tolerated his cat.

“I think you should be pleased she wandered down to my apartment. Shows she’s slowly gaining confidence. With luck she’ll eventually stop trying to scratch us all to the bone. She’s in the kitchen.” She walked through and he followed her, scanning the profusion of pots on the windowsill.

“You’re growing herbs now?”

“A few. Sweet basil and Italian parsley. I grow them for Eva.”

“There’s an Italian parsley? All those trips to Italy I took in college and I never knew that.” He strolled across to the window and stared out across the small garden. “You’ve done a good job with this place. I’m lucky having you living here.”

They talked all the time about a range of subjects but he rarely made personal comments. She hated the fact that it flustered her.

“I’m the lucky one. If it weren’t for you I’d be living in an
apartment the size of a shoe box and storing my clothes in the oven. You know how it is in New York.” Embarrassed, she stooped to stroke the cat and Claws shot under the table for protection. “Oops. Moved too fast. She’s nervous.”

He turned. “She’s getting better. A few months ago she wouldn’t have paid you a visit.” He sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and Claws immediately crept out and jumped onto his lap. “Thanks for feeding her.”

“You’re welcome.” Frankie watched as Claws gave a slow stretch. The cat lost her balance and shot out her claws, but Matt curved his hand over her back, holding her securely against the hard muscle on his thigh.

Frankie stared at that hand and the slow, reassuring stroke of his fingers and felt herself grow hot.

“Something wrong?”

“Excuse me?” Frankie dragged her eyes from the mesmerizing movement of his fingers and met his amused gaze.

“You’re staring at my cat.”

Cat? Cat. “I—” she’d stopped staring at the cat a long time ago. “She’s still skinny.”

“The vet said it will take a while for her to regain all the weight she lost when she was shut in that room.” There was a grim set to his mouth that reminded her that there were limits even to Matt’s patience. And then he smiled. “Have I seen that T-shirt before? The color suits you.”

“What?” Unbalanced by both the smile and the comment, she stared at him.

She didn’t think Matt would ever mock her, which could only mean—

“Do you want something?” She looked him in the eye. “Because you can just ask straight out. You don’t have to do the whole ‘you look nice in that T-shirt’ thing to soften me up. Thanks to you I live in the best apartment in Brooklyn,
and on top of that I’ve known you forever so you can pretty much ask anything and I’ll say yes.”

“Another owner’s privilege?” He gently lifted the cat and set her down on the floor. “You probably shouldn’t have told me that. I might choose to invoke that clause in our agreement.”

Was he flirting with her?

Confusion jammed her thought processes.

She always knew where she was with Matt but suddenly she was in unfamiliar territory.

Of course he wasn’t flirting. They never flirted. She didn’t know how to flirt. Her expertise, honed over a decade, was in putting men off, not in encouraging them.

And anyway, Matt would never be interested in her. She wasn’t sophisticated enough or experienced enough.

She needed to say something light and funny to restore the atmosphere, but her mind was blank.

Matt watched her steadily. “I paid you a compliment, Frankie. You don’t have to strip it down and check it for bugs or incendiary devices. You just say thank you and move on.”

A compliment?

But why? He never paid her compliments. “This T-shirt is five years old. It’s not that special.”

“I didn’t say I liked your T-shirt. I said I liked the way you look in it. I was complimenting
you,
not what you were wearing specifically. Did you mention wine?” Smoothly he changed the subject and she turned to pick up the bottle, frustrated with herself.

Why did she have to turn it into such a big deal? Was it really so hard to flirt?

Eva would have had the perfect response ready. So would Paige.

She was the only one who had no idea what to say or do.
She needed to get a “how to” book. How to flirt. How not to make a fool of yourself around a man.

“Montepulciano. Unless you’d rather a beer?”

“Beer sounds good.”

She stooped and pulled one out of the fridge, forcing herself to relax. She was going to type “how to flirt” into a search engine later. She was going to practice a few responses so this never happened again. If a guy paid her a compliment, she should at least know how to respond instead of treating every comment as if it were an incoming computer virus. “How was your day?”

“I’ve had better.” He snapped the top off the beer. “Too much work, not enough time. Remember that piece of business I won a few months ago?”

“You’ve won loads of business, Matt.”

“Roof terrace on the Upper East Side.”

“Oh yes, I remember.” This conversation was better. Safe. “It was a real coup. Is there a problem with planning?”

“Not planning. That’s all good. What isn’t good is the fact that Victoria left yesterday.”

Frankie had trained with Victoria at the Botanic Gardens and she’d been the one to recommend her to Matt. “Doesn’t she have to give you notice?”

“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.