New York's Finest Rebel. Trish Wylie
‘What?’
‘The dog. It’s a Bichon frise.’
‘It got a name?’
‘Gershwin.’ She rolled her eyes when she realized what she was doing. ‘And I’m afraid that’s my quota for helpfulness all used up for the day.’
Bending over, he lifted the box at their feet, held it to his ear and gave it a brisk shake. ‘You owe me a half-dozen glasses.’
‘Sue me,’ she said as she turned on her heel.
As he followed her down the hall Daniel’s errant gaze lowered to watch the sway of her hips before he reminded himself who he was looking at. He had done some dumb things in his time but checking out Jorja Dawson was stupid on a whole new level. If she were the last woman left in the state of New York, he would take a vow of celibacy before getting involved with her. He even had a list of reasons why.
Casually tossing long locks of shining hair over her shoulder, she reached into her purse and turned to face him at the door to her apartment. ‘I don’t suppose you’re considering showing your face at Sunday lunch once you’ve unpacked? Your mother would appreciate it.’
Number six on his list: Family involvement.
He looked into her eyes. ‘Will you be there?’
‘Never miss it.’
‘Tell them I said hi.’
‘Are you saying you don’t go because I’m there?’
‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ He moved the box in his arms to dig into a pocket for his key. ‘If I rearranged my life around you I wouldn’t be moving into an apartment across the hall from you. But just so you know—’ he leaned closer and lowered his voice ‘—you’ll move before I do.’
‘You’ve never stayed anywhere longer than six months,’ she stated categorically. ‘And even then it was because the army sent you there.’
‘Navy,’ he corrected without missing a beat. ‘And if there’s one thing you should keep in mind about the Marines, it’s that we don’t give up ground.’
‘I’ve lived here for more than four years. I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Then I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.’
Something he could have done without, frankly. Not that he was likely to tell her, but she was the main reason he’d debated taking the apartment. She was a spy who could report back to the rest of the Brannigan clan in weekly discussions over a roast and cheesecake from Junior’s. But as far as Daniel was concerned, if his family wanted to know how he was doing they could ask. When they did, he’d give them the same answer he had for the last eight years. With a few more recent additions to throw them off the trail.
He was fine, thanks. Sure it was good to be home. No, he hadn’t had any problems settling back into his unit. Yes, if the Reserves called him up again he would go.
They didn’t need to know more than that.
‘You know your problem, Daniel?’ She angled her head to the irritating angle she did best. ‘You think your being here bugs me when to be honest I couldn’t care less where you are, what you’re doing or who you’re doing it with.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Mmm-hmm.’ She nodded. ‘I’m not one of those women you can turn into a gibbering idiot with a smile. I just hope your ego can handle that.’
‘Careful, Jo, I might take that as a challenge.’
There was a low burst of the same sparkling laughter he heard on the stairwell, making him wonder why it was he hadn’t recognized it before. Most likely it was because she didn’t laugh much when he was around. The second it looked as if she would, he’d say something to ruin her mood. He’d been good at that long before he’d started to put any effort into it.
‘I had no idea you had a sense of humour,’ she said with enough derogatory amusement to tempt him to rise to the bait.
Before he could, she opened the door to her apartment and stepped over the threshold. She turned, her gaze sliding over his body from head to toe and back up again; her laughter louder as she swung the door shut.
Daniel shook his head. Damn, she bugged him.
Damn, he bugged her.
Leaning back against the door, Jo took a long breath and frowned at the fact her heart rate was running a little faster than usual. If taking the stairs in heels had that much of an effect, she might have to consider taking a gym membership.
Granted, a small part of it could probably be chalked up to frustration at her inability to hold a conversation with him without it turning into a verbal sparring match. But she hadn’t been sparring alone. To say they brought out the worst in each other would be the understatement of the century.
Heading across the open-plan living area to her bedroom, she resisted the urge to hunt out fluffy slippers and a pair of pyjamas. If he drove her into ice-cream-eating attire on his first day there wasn’t a hope she could survive the next three months. When her cell phone rang an hour later, she checked the name on the screen before answering.
‘I still can’t believe you’ve done this to me.’
A smile sounded in Olivia’s voice. ‘Which part? Moving out, putting you in a bridesmaid dress or telling Danny about the apartment next door?’
‘I think you know what I mean,’ Jo smirked sarcastically. ‘I need a new BFF; my ideal man could have moved into that apartment if you hadn’t mentioned it to Mr Personality.’
‘Since when have you been looking for an ideal man? And anyway, he won’t be there long. Short lease, remember?’
‘If he renews I’m making a little doll and sticking dozens of pins in it.’ Leaving the mirror where she had been staging a personal fashion show in front of hyper-critical eyes, she headed for the kitchen. ‘But just so you know, he’s determined I’ll move first.’
Since everyone who had ever lived in Manhattan knew what their apartment meant to a New Yorker, she didn’t have to explain how ridiculous it was for Daniel to think she was going anywhere. The apartment she’d shared with Olivia—and from time to time still did with Jess—was a few hundred square feet of space she could call her own.
She hadn’t worked her butt off to end up back in a place she’d sworn she would never find herself again.
‘You saw him already? Is there blood in the hall?’
‘Not yet. But give it a few weeks and only one of us is leaving this building intact.’ Lifting the empty coffeepot, she sighed at the heavy beat coming from across the hall. ‘Can you hear that?’
She held the phone out at arm’s length for a moment.
‘My brother and classic rock go together like—’
‘Satan and eternal torture?’ Jo enquired.
‘Probably not the best time to mention he’s agreed to be in the wedding party, is it?’
‘I am not walking up the aisle with him.’
‘You can have Tyler.’
Good call. She loved Tyler Brannigan. He was fun to be around. ‘I thought he was determined he wasn’t wearing a monkey suit. How did you talk him into it?’
‘Danny? The same way we got him to his niece’s birthday party last month. Only this time Blake helped …’
Meaning he’d lost a bet. Jo smiled a small smile at the idea of Liv’s new fiancé tag-teaming with the rest of the Brannigan brothers against one of their own on poker night. She spooned