Sunset In Central Park. Sarah Morgan
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is wearing her problem-solving face. What’s happened?”
“I have a doomed face?” Just for a moment Frankie wished she had Eva’s confidence. Never in a million years would she go out in public wearing a skirt that short.
“You have the face you wear when things are going wrong.”
Paige stood up and picked up some pages from the printer. “Matt worked out that she doesn’t need glasses.”
“Oh.” Eva’s brow cleared. “Is that all? I thought something awful had happened.”
“That is awful.”
“Why? Wearing glasses is part of who you are. It’s part of your individuality.”
“You mean my hang-ups.”
Eva shrugged. “Hang-ups are individual. The important thing is that you mustn’t be afraid to let people know the real you. That’s what intimacy is.”
“I don’t want intimacy! That’s why I wear the glasses—to repel intimacy.”
“Yes, but—” Eva caught Paige’s eye. “But I strongly defend the right of the individual to wear whatever they like, so I’m making no comment. Is that why you want to know how to flirt? So that next time he talks about your glasses you can turn it into seduction?”
“I wear the glasses so I can be sure I never reach the point of seduction.”
Eva looked baffled. “I love you, but I will never understand you.”
“That goes both ways. And if you don’t comment on my glasses, I won’t comment on that thing you call a skirt.”
“Hey, I am rocking this skirt.” Eva’s cheeks dimpled into a smile as she rotated her hips in a sensuous movement that would have caused multiple collisions had they been in public. “Don’t you love it?”
“I’ve seen wider hair ribbons, but yes, it’s cute. Now tell us about Mitzy.” She needed to stop thinking about Matt and focus on work. “What does she need from us? If she can get me early copies of all Lucas Blade’s releases, I’ll do pretty much anything for her.”
“She wants me to bake him a birthday cake.”
Paige clipped pages together. “Does she really want a cake or is it just an excuse to spend another afternoon talking to you?”
“Does it matter? She’s so kind. And wise.” Eva’s voice thickened. “She reminds me of Grams. And she treats me as if I’m family.”
Eva had such a rosy view of family it made Frankie feel guilty that she couldn’t feel better disposed toward her own.
“Go and see her, Ev. I’ll make up a bunch of flowers for her, and don’t charge her for the cake.”
“I don’t think she minds paying. Money isn’t the problem. But she’s lonely.”
And so are you, Frankie thought, making a mental note to spend more time with her friend. As an introvert, she didn’t seek human contact the way Eva did. She loved her friends, but she was equally comfortable in her own space with her books and her plants. But she knew that with Paige spending more time with Jake, Eva would be spending more time alone.
“Her grandsons don’t visit?”
“One of them rarely leaves Wall Street and Lucas, the one who writes those scary books you love, rarely leaves his apartment unless he’s on a book tour. Apparently, his deadline is looming and he’s Mr. Moody. She wants me to fill his freezer with healthy food, too, so he doesn’t fade away or turn into a vessel for junk food.”
Frankie thought about what had happened to the main character in the opening scene of Lucas Blade’s new book. Then she looked at Eva, who was so gentle you could have knocked her over with one flick of a soft sweater. “I don’t think you should be visiting some reclusive dangerous guy in his apartment by yourself.”
“Who said he was dangerous? I never said he was dangerous.”
“You said he was moody.”
“Well, he lost his wife,” Eva said reasonably. “He’s allowed to be moody.”
“His books are dark, Eva. I mean read-with-the-lights-on dark. That man’s mind works in ways that even freak me out.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it because I’d rather give away my shoe collection than read a horror story. But you can relax. I’m taking the food to Mitzy and she is going over there with Peanut.”
“Who is Peanut?”
“The dog. Very cute. I walked him last time I was there. Much more appreciative than Claws. He’s one of those tiny dogs that fits in a handbag. Lucas bought him for Mitzy, which was actually very thoughtful so he can’t be that dangerous, can he? But thank you for caring.”
“Well, be careful.” Frankie checked her schedule. “I need to go to the flower district tomorrow morning. Final preparations for the Myers-Topper birthday bash on Friday.”
Paige glanced up. “How is the planning for that going?”
“All good. We’re doing a hedge wall, tree rental and fresh flowers. Anyone want to join me?”
“At the flower district at five in the morning?” Eva recoiled. “No, thanks. I’d rather pull out my own eyelashes, which is probably what I’d have to do to stay awake if you got me up at that time.”
“I’ll come. I love it and they sell great coffee in that little bistro.” Paige sent another document to the printer, stood up and stretched. “Time to go. I have a meeting over on Fifth. Are you sure you’re happy to feed Claws? Because if you are then I won’t hurry home.”
“I’ll feed her.”
She’d leave a note for Matt and that would be the end of it.
Matt would sense she didn’t want to talk about it, and being a guy it was a fair assumption that he wouldn’t want to talk about it, either. Neither of them would ever mention it again.
“You’ll need the keys to Matt’s apartment.” Paige rummaged in her bag and pulled them out. “Here. Good luck.”
“I’m feeding the cat. I need cat food, not luck.” Frankie dropped the keys into her purse. “How hard can it be?”
Eva opened her mouth and then caught Paige’s eye and closed it again. “I’m not saying a word. But if I were you I’d take a weapon along with the cat food. And wear armor.”
“I always wear armor.”
But now she’d lost a layer.
Her glasses.
Tired and hot after a day when too much of it had been spent outside in sweltering heat, Matt let himself into his apartment and paused as he heard voices.
He lived alone.
There weren’t supposed to be voices.
He walked into his kitchen and stopped. His intruder was on all fours under the table. All he could see was a perfectly curved bottom in faded denim, but he would have known that bottom anywhere.
He admired it for a moment, but decided that this time he’d hold the compliment.
Instead, he cleared his throat.
Frankie banged her head on the table and swore. She emerged gingerly, glasses awry, rubbing her head with her fingers. “What are you doing here?” She pushed her glasses up her nose, as if challenging him to comment.
He said nothing, but felt a flash of disappointment that she still felt the need to wear them in front of him.
“This is my apartment. I live here.”
“How long have you been standing there?”
“A