Night Moves. Джулия Кеннер
him about the fantasy in the library. She desperately wanted to spend more time with him before he headed back to Houston, but right now wasn’t the moment.
And so she did what every reasonable, intelligent, modern woman with a little time on her hands would do: she went shopping.
That was her favorite part about living in New York, actually. She could spend an entire day shopping and not spend any more than it cost to get a street pretzel and a Diet Coke.
She started by taking the subway to Fifty-ninth near the Plaza, then walking the length of Fifth Avenue, peering through the windows at all the fabulous bags and shoes. Things she wouldn’t buy even if she had the money (twelve hundred dollars for a purse?) but were still fun to look at.
At about three o’clock, her cell phone rang. She checked caller ID, and when she saw Shane Mobile, a whole flock of butterflies seemed to take residence in her stomach. Great. Now not only was she in lust with her best friend, she was completely befuddled in his presence. Even his cellular presence.
She snapped open the phone. “Hey!” It sounded perky, cheery and not the least bit horny. One point for her team.
“Hey, yourself.” The smile in his voice came over the phone lines loud and clear. “I’ve got your cabinets sanded and stained. They’re drying on the fire escape, and they should probably stay there overnight.”
“You’re a saint, you know that, right?”
“That’s me. Saint Walker.” A pause, then he said, “So what time are you getting home? We could paint the bathroom together. I’ve got it masked off.”
“Oh.” She pictured the clothes she’d worn when they’d painted three of the walls two nights ago—a pair of cutoffs so short, she never wore them in public and a flimsy men’s undershirt with the sleeves cut off. In the close quarters of her unventilated bathroom, the shirt would be sticking to her in no time, the shorts rubbing her in all sorts of provocative ways. And Shane would be right there, shirtless with a sheen of sweat, wearing those paint-splattered denim shorts that hugged his ass and—
“No.”
“What?” He sounded confused. Well, no wonder.
“Sorry. I’m just a little stressed. This paper isn’t going well. I was kind of thinking I’d stay at the library until late. Could I…I mean, could we take a rain check?”
“Sure thing, El.” The silence on the phone dragged on, and then he cleared his throat. “Um, El?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not avoiding me, are you?”
Good Lord, was she that transparent? “Of course not. Why on earth would you say that? That’s just ridiculous!” She closed her eyes, certain he could tell she was lying.
“Sorry. I just thought…well, I know you’re mad at me for moving back and—”
“Oh, is that all?” She exhaled with relief, thrilled he was just worried about her temper and not her newfound lust. “Yes, I was mad, but I’m more sad. And I wouldn’t sulk and let you leave without seeing you. That would be punishing both of us. But I have to finish this project. I’m down to the wire. Really.”
“Right,” he said. “Of course. So, I guess I’ll just head home now and get caught up on packing. How about we meet for breakfast tomorrow and then finish the job?”
Tomorrow. Surely she could get her libido under control by tomorrow. “Sure,” she said. “That would be great.”
“Good luck with the paper,” he said, sounding like the good friend he was.
“Thanks. I’m sure I’ll whip it into shape,” she said, like the lustful, lying creature she was.
As soon as the line went dead, she snapped the phone closed, then looked around. She was standing in front of Crate and Barrel. Well, that would do.
Sometimes, though, window-shopping just didn’t do the trick. And so she went inside to engage in a little bit of credit-card therapy.
SHANE STARED AT THE now-dead phone, more disappointed than he wanted to admit. It certainly wasn’t Ella’s fault that her paper was due right around the time that he was packing up to leave, but that didn’t change the fact that he jealously guarded every minute they had together. He’d been secretly thrilled when she’d told him that Tony was in L.A. for business this week, since that meant even more minutes for Shane. But when time he thought was theirs was ripped away…well, he got a little pissed.
He wanted to get his plan underway. He was pumped up and ready. And he didn’t want to wait until the morning.
So do something about it.
He frowned at the thought. What was he supposed to do? She had to work and he had to pack.
After that, though…
He moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a soda, turning the thought over in his head. She hadn’t suggested doing anything afterward, probably because she planned to work pretty late and expected to be tired when she finished.
But that was okay. He could work with tired and he could work with late. They could have dessert. Maybe even a whole dinner. A bottle of bubbly. And watch a movie on DVD.
A perfectly relaxing evening, brought to her courtesy of her best friend. A best friend who, if he played his cards right, would end the evening with Ella naked in his arms.
At least, that’s what he was hoping for.
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