Sleepless In Manhattan. Sarah Morgan
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your website and you need an expert?” Suppressing a yawn, he tapped a key on his computer to wake it up, wishing he could do the same thing to himself. “Another corporate takeover?”
“Star Events has laid off half their staff.”
Jake woke instantly. “Paige didn’t get her promotion?”
“I don’t know. She’s not answering her phone.”
“You think she’s lost her job?”
“I think it’s possible.” Matt sounded tense. “Probable. She’s cut herself off, and that’s what she does when she’s in Brave Mode.”
Jake didn’t have to ask what he meant. He’d seen Paige in Brave Mode often enough, and he hated it. He hated thinking of her scared, struggling and hiding it. “Well, hell—”
“She worked so damn hard for that promotion. It’s all she’s talked about all year. She’s going to be devastated.”
“Yeah.” And he would have done anything to stop Paige being hurt. He considered how long it would take him to cross town and beat someone to a pulp. “Eva? Frankie?”
“They’re not answering, either. I’m hoping they’re together. I don’t want her to be on her own, shutting everyone out.”
Neither did he.
Jake stood up and paced to the window, mentally listing the options. “I’ll make some calls. Find out what’s going on.”
“Why isn’t she answering her phone?” It was a growl. “I’m worried about her.”
“You’re always worried about her.”
“She’s my sister—”
“Yeah, and you wrap her in cotton wool. You need to let her live her life. She’s tougher than you think. And she’s strong and healthy.”
But she hadn’t always been that way.
He had a clear recollection of Paige as a teenager, pale and thin in the hospital bed, waiting for major heart surgery. And he remembered his friend, white-faced and more stressed than Jake had ever seen him, hollow eyed after nights without sleep, nights spent sitting by his sister’s bed.
“What are you doing tonight?” Matt asked, sounding tired.
“I have a hot date.” Although whether he could wake up enough to perform he wasn’t sure. His friend wasn’t the only one who was tired. At this rate he might be the first man on earth to have sex while in a coma.
“With Gina?”
“Gina was last month.”
“Do you ever see a woman for more than a month?”
“Not unless I lose track of time.” He moved on. It suited him that way.
“So it’s not true love?” Matt laughed. “Sorry. I forgot you don’t believe in love.”
Love?
Jake stared out of the window at a city washed with sunshine.
“Are you still there?” Matt’s voice cut through the memories.
“Yeah.” His voice was rusty. “Still here.”
“If it’s not true love, cancel and come over. If the three of them have lost their jobs I don’t want to handle it on my own. My sister is hard work when she’s stressed, mostly because she insists on pretending she’s fine. Trying to get her to admit she’s struggling is like drilling through steel. I don’t mind her doing that with mom, but it pisses me off when she does it with me.”
“You’re asking me to turn down a night of sex with a Swedish blonde to help persuade your sister and her friends to be honest about their emotions? Call me boring, but I don’t find that a tempting offer.”
“She’s Swedish? What’s her name? Where does she work?”
“Her first name is Annika. I haven’t asked her second name and I don’t care where she works as long as it’s not for my company.” Jake walked back to his desk and when he sat down the woman on his mind wasn’t Annika. Where was Paige now? He imagined her, pacing the streets somewhere, upset. Alone. Hiding everything she felt. Shit. He picked up a pencil and doodled on a pad on the desk. “I’m no good with tears.”
“Have you ever seen Paige cry?”
Jake’s fingers tightened on the pencil.
Yeah, he’d seen her cry.
He’d been the one to make her cry.
But Matt didn’t know anything about that.
“I’ve seen Eva cry.”
“Eva cries at sad movies and pretty sunsets,” Matt drawled, “but she didn’t miss a single day at work after her grandmother died. She dragged herself out of bed every day, put on her makeup and went to work even though she was devastated. That girl is tough.” There was a pause. “Look, if there is crying, I’ll deal with it.”
Jake thought about his date for the night. Then he thought about Paige. Paige, who he tried really hard only ever to think of as his best friend’s little sister.
Little sister. Little. Little.
If he repeated that word often enough, hopefully his brain might eventually believe it.
He could refuse, but then he wouldn’t be able to help her and he had every intention of helping. The situation was complicated by the fact that he knew Paige wouldn’t want to be helped. She hated being protected or smothered. She didn’t want to be the focus of other people’s anxieties.
He understood that. He understood her.
Which was why he was determined to structure his help in a way that was acceptable to her.
And the first thing he had to do was move her past the shock stage, into the action stage.
“I’ll be there.”
His Friday night of mindless physical entertainment evaporated into the ether.
Instead of spending the night with a stunning blonde he’d be behaving in a brotherly fashion toward a woman he made a point of avoiding whenever he could. Why did he avoid her?
Because Paige Walker wasn’t little. She was all grown-up.
And his feelings toward her were far from brotherly.
“Thanks.” Matt sounded relieved. “And Jake—?”
“What?”
“Be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
“Not to Paige. I know you two don’t really get along that well anymore.” Matt sounded tired again. “Normally that doesn’t worry me because—well, you know why. There was a time when I thought she might be in love with you.”
She’d been crazily in love with him.
She’d told him as much, in a breathless hopeful voice, her eyes full of happy endings.
And she’d been naked at the time.
There was a sharp crack, and Jake glanced down and saw that he’d broken the pencil in half.
“You don’t have anything to worry about. Paige definitely isn’t in love with me now.”
He might not have been able to fix her heart, but he’d fixed that.
He’d been careful to kill any soft feelings she might have had for him a long time ago. Now the only emotion she ever felt in his presence was extreme irritation. It was an art form, winding her up. There were days when he even pretended he enjoyed it.
He kept her annoyed.
Kept