Roughing It with Ryan. Jill Shalvis
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quite fine.”
Suzanne agreed, but kept her opinion to herself.
“And though he’s far too kind to show it, he’s royally pissed at me at the moment.” She gave an elegant shrug. “He’ll live.”
They both moved to the door to watch him vanish down the stairs, momentarily absorbed in the way his T-shirt so nicely outlined his wide shoulders and strong back, and then there were those jeans, so lovingly cupping his long, well-defined legs, not to mention the best-looking butt Suzanne had ever seen.
The woman standing next to her—looking far more suited for a fancy luncheon than standing in the dusty room—sighed lustily, then shrugged it off. “So. I’m Taylor Wellington. I placed the ad. Do you want the apartment?”
Suzanne might have utterly failed in the love department—three times—but she hadn’t been born yesterday. “I think I should see the rest of it first.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” Taylor took a look around her, then cut her gaze back to Suzanne’s. “Just remember, it’s cheap, okay? Really cheap. Now here’s the bedroom, just off the front here.” She opened a door that Suzanne had assumed was a closet.
It wasn’t much bigger than one, but it did have a window to the street, where she could see an array of shops and galleries, and people walking up and down the sidewalks. It charmed her, and was infinitively better than sleeping in her car.
Then she caught the sign for the shop directly across the street and her heart leaped. “An ice-cream shop?”
“Open until 11:00 every night,” Taylor confirmed. “You just keep that in mind now, as you look at the bathroom.”
The bathroom was the size of a postage stamp. No tub, Suzanne thought with a sigh, but it had all the basics—a shower, a sink and a commode.
“Everything’s in working order,” Taylor promised. “That is if you don’t try to make toast and use a hair dryer at the same time. And hey, with a good scrubbing, the place might even be cute. What do you think?”
“I think if the price is right, I’ll take it.”
“The price is right,” Taylor promised. “Come with me downstairs, I have the forms. When would you move in?”
Suzanne thought of her belongings all wedged into her car. “I hope now is good.”
Taylor laughed. “If you have first and last month’s rent, plus a small security deposit, now is perfect.”
Damn. “Uh…how attached to the security deposit idea are you?”
Nicole stopped and looked her over. “Hurting for cash?”
“You could say that.” Tim had let her purchase his very expensive bedroom furniture with her savings several weeks ago. Furniture he now claimed had been her gift to him. Gift, ha! She could have fed a small country for a year on what she’d paid. Odd how mad that made her now, when she’d so happily given him everything only a month ago. “But I do have a job,” she said positively, which was true. “Will that help?”
“Yes, a job is good.” Taylor thought it over. “We can skip the deposit.”
They started down the stairs again, Taylor in her fancy wear, looking like royalty visiting the slums, and Suzanne with her gypsy dress, fitting right into her immediate surroundings.
“What is it that you do?” Taylor asked.
“I’m a chef at Café Meridian.” As Suzanne mentioned the café only about five blocks from this very spot, a flicker of unease rolled over her shoulders. She’d moved up from a less esteemed kitchen when Tim’s sister had purchased the place and Tim had insisted Suzanne would love working for his sister.
Now that they had broken up, Suzanne hoped it wouldn’t be awkward to continue working there. Though she’d taken less money than she’d wanted to, she loved the job.
Okay, so she loved food. Period. But she needed the job. Without it, she’d have to rely on her catering, which was simply a hobby and would stay that way. Running a business would be…well, too regimented. Far too regimented.
Sorry, Mom.
Carters in general—meaning her and her dad—didn’t do serious. Which was why her mother couldn’t talk to either of them without her jaw getting all bunched up. Her father was still a struggling stand-up comedian at nearly sixty years of age. On the outside it looked like he was a slacker left over from an age when that was a good thing, but the truth was, he loved his carefree life. Material possessions and corporate success meant less to him than his freedom.
Suzanne, according to her mother, was a chip off the old block.
She and Taylor came to the second floor landing, where Taylor unlocked one of the two apartments, then gestured for Suzanne to enter. “This is my place.”
Suzanne stood in the empty living room not so different from the one on the floor above, except this place had been cleaned spotless. “But it’s…empty.”
“I’ve just moved in myself, and into the bedroom only. The rest is a job for this week.”
“You own the building?”
Taylor slid a very tasteful beige pump, which probably cost more than Suzanne’s entire wardrobe, over the smooth floor. “I do now.”
“Pardon my frankness, but you’re dressed to the nines, dripping elegance and sophistication, and yet I have the strangest feeling that you don’t have any more money than I do.”
Taylor sighed and rolled her head on her neck. “What gave me away? The not wanting to put money into the trees?”
“Let’s just say desperation recognizes desperation.”
Taylor laughed. “You know what? I like you. Okay, here’s the humiliating truth. I grew up with the proverbial silver spoon in my mouth—the best of schools, the whole works. College at Brown University, courtesy of Great-Grandpa’s Swiss bank account. After graduation, I traveled Europe for fun.”
“Also on Grandpa’s Swiss bank account?” Suzanne guessed, and when Taylor nodded, she shook her head. “I’m not feeling sorry for you yet.”
“I know, we’re getting to that.” Taylor lifted her hands in a surrendering gesture. “I was spoiled rotten, I admit it. I never worked a day in my life, never worried about money, nothing. Then Grandpa, who I only saw every few years when he felt the need to see firsthand how his money was paying off, up and died on me.”
“How inconsiderate,” Suzanne murmured.
“But he left me this building.”
“It’s prime real estate. It’s got to be worth a for tune.”
“Yeah, if you have a fortune to spend on it.” Taylor grimaced. “He didn’t leave me any money to go with it, not one single dime. I’ve never had to save money and I don’t have a job so I’m flat broke.”
“Except for this building.”
“Except for this building,” she agreed. “Obviously I need tenants, as I’ve found I’m rather fond of eating.
I figure I can get cash flow from the rentals. And as it all starts to come in, I promise to fix the place up. If you want to help, I’ll give you a break on the rent. So…still want the loft?”
Suzanne might have grown up with her comedian father, who thought everything was a joke, but she did have a brain. “Why not just sell and pocket the dough?”
Taylor vehemently shook her head. Not a single hair fell out of place. “Cave on my first real challenge? No way.”
Suzanne felt herself let loose a genuine smile—her first since finding her belongings stacked in the hall and the locks changed. “You know, I think I like you back.”
Taylor’s