Just One Night. Nancy Warren
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be under a doctor’s care and I’ll be needing the physician’s report before I can reinstate you for any assignments in the field.”
“Oh, come on, Gary. Give me a freakin’ break.”
Once more the glasses came off and he was regarded by tired hazel eyes. “I am giving you a break. I could assign you to a desk right here in New York. That’s your other option.”
He shook his head. No way he was being trapped in a small space. He didn’t like feeling trapped. Not ever. “See you in a couple of weeks.”
Once he was out of Gary’s office and in the hallway Rob gave up the manly act and tried to put as little weight on his injured leg as possible.
“Rob, you should be on crutches,” a female voice called out.
He turned, recognizing the voice and mustering a happy-to-see-you smile. “Romona, hi.”
A print business reporter making the transition to television, Romona had the looks of a South American runway model and the brains of Hillary Clinton. They got together whenever they were both in New York. Neither had any interest in commitment but enjoyed each other’s company and bodies. “I heard you were hurt. How are you doing?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Okay.”
Even though they’d never do anything as obvious as hug in public, the glance she sent him from tilted green eyes steamed around the edges. She dropped her voice. “Why don’t you come over later and I’ll kiss you all better?”
“I’m filthy. Haven’t shaved in days, had a haircut in weeks, my—”
“I like you scruffy. You look like a sunburned pirate.”
He knew he’d hit rock bottom when he realized he had no desire to spend the night with a passionate woman. His leg was burning, he had a vicious case of jet lag and he’d been pulled out of the field. He felt too worn-out tired even to get laid. All he wanted to do was hide out for a while and heal.
He shook his head attempting to appear more disappointed than he was. “Sorry. I have a plane to catch.”
She knew as well as he did that plane tickets could be changed and it was a measure of his exhaustion that this was the best excuse he could come up with.
She didn’t call him on it though, merely patted his arm and said, “Maybe next time.”
That was the great thing about Romona. She was a lot like him. He’d enjoyed any number of women over the years, loved sex, but had no interest in settling down. Career came first. Maybe it was shallow, and maybe there was a part of him that longed for a woman to comfort him, to listen to his stories, share his pain. The only woman who’d ever been like that, though, had been his grandmother. Ruefully, he suspected she’d been the love of his life.
And now she was gone.
He had so many frequent flyer miles that upgrading was no problem when he got to LaGuardia. He even scored an aisle seat so he could stretch his bad leg out a little.
Once airborne, he recalled that the family attorney had tried to talk to him about the Fremont house. What with getting shot and all, he hadn’t got around to calling back. He’d call him as soon as he got into Seattle.
It was something to do with Bellamy House, the old family place where he’d spent so much time with his grandmother.
He couldn’t imagine the place without her. As a stab of pain hit, he took out the paperback he’d brought and forced himself to read.
HAILEY FLEMING WAS a woman with an agenda. Two in fact. The electronic one that she relied on so heavily that she’d recently started keeping a backup paper day planner because the thought of somehow losing her electronic schedule made her feel too close to losing her mind for comfort.
She was nothing if not organized.
And both agendas told her that she was exactly on time for the best appointment of the day. An after-work glass of wine with a colleague who’d become a close friend, Julia Atkinson.
As she made her way into the bistro off North Phinney Avenue, a former record store turned trendy bar, she scanned the tables and was not surprised to find she was the first to arrive. She was always early.
And Julia was always late.
She settled at a table and ordered a glass of white wine then spent ten minutes going through tomorrow’s appointments and writing some notes on improvements she wanted to make on her website.
“Am I late?” a breezy, breathless voice said as Julia swished into her chair, a loose black garment that resembled a combination sweater, poncho and cloak settling in around her.
“Of course you are. You’re always late.”
Julia’s red hair was newly cut into a curly bob and her full lips curved in a smile. “I was at the opening of a new furniture gallery which has brought in several fantastic new lines from Milan. I got chatting, and there were these delicious cookies. I left after three. It was the only way I could stop myself. I don’t feel guilty. I bet you did a day’s work while you waited.”
“Half a day’s anyway.”
A waiter arrived and Julia ordered a vodka tonic. Which meant she was on another of her diets. Which meant …
“I think I’ve met someone.” She sounded so excited that Hailey leaned forward.
“Tell me everything.”
Julia unbuttoned the cloak thing and draped it over the back of her chair, revealing a black-and-red dress enlivened by one of the hundreds of chunky, glitzy vintage necklaces she owned.
“He’s an engineer who lives downtown. He was married, but his wife left him and broke his heart.”
“Wow. That was fast. I just saw you last week. Where did you meet him?”
Julia’s drink came and she took a quick sip. “I haven’t actually met him yet.”
“Huh?”
She shrugged, and the slight movement made all the rhinestones in her jewelry glitter under the bar’s chandeliers. “I met him on LoveMatch.com.”
“Oh. Online dating.”
“I’d never tried it before, but lots of women meet great guys online. So I figured, why not? It’s not like you meet men if you’re a home stager.” She thought for a second. “At least not straight men.”
“How do you already know so much about him?”
“We’ve been talking on the phone. He’s away on business in the Philippines, but I’ll be meeting him next Tuesday.” Her eyes were bright with excitement. “Do you want to see a picture?”
“Of course.”
Julia hauled her computer tablet out of her bag and within a few moments passed over the electronic device complete with a grinning blond guy. Not Hailey’s type at all. Too pretty for her tastes, but Julia liked her men pretty. “Wow.”
“My big fear is that he’s too good-looking for me. Oh, and he has the cutest accent. He was born in Manchester, but he’s lived all over the world. An army brat like you.”
Hailey regarded the electronic image once more. He was wearing shorts and a loose cotton shirt. Despite the square jaw, he seemed somehow lacking in character. She’d never say so to her friend. Besides, even she knew that her own taste was notoriously picky.
“He’s not too good-looking for you. You are beautiful.”
“Do you think I can lose ten pounds by Tuesday?”
“Stop it,” Hailey said, trying not to laugh. “He’s seen your photo, right? He obviously liked what he saw.”
Julia nibbled her lower lip. “I used one from after I took that fitness boot