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 while.” Or maybe he wouldn’t hold the compliment. It was bad to hold things in, wasn’t it? “Long enough to admire your butt.”
Confusion clouded her eyes. “Instead of staring at my butt, you should be dealing with your pet. Your cat has issues.”
Not only my cat, he thought. “I wouldn’t argue with that.”
“She was happy enough to eat my food on Saturday, but apparently she needs to be the one who decides where she eats. She wasn’t impressed that I was the one that put food in her bowl.”
“She’s giving you problems?”
“Nothing a therapist couldn’t sort out given a couple of years.” She pushed her hair back from her face and he reached forward and gently removed her glasses.
“You don’t need to wear those when you’re with me.”
“Matt—” She made a wild grab for them but he folded them up and slid them into his pocket.
“What do you think they do, Frankie? Cover up the fact you have pretty eyes?” They were a washed shade of green and they reminded him of a Scottish hillside or an English garden after a shower of rain. She looked so disconcerted he wanted to hug her. “You need to stop hiding.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“You’re hiding. But you don’t ever need to hide from me.” Knowing that he’d pushed her enough for the time being, he turned and put his laptop on the table. “Thanks for feeding Claws. That’s twice in one week. I owe you for the favor, plus extra for danger money.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” She was balanced on her toes, poised to run, and he decided that the best way to get her to relax was to talk about work.
“I spent the morning trying to find a horticultural specialist who can step in and replace Victoria. Do you have time to take a look at the plans? I’d love to hear your thoughts.” He was banking on the fact that Frankie was too passionate about her job not to be intrigued by the project that was currently occupying his every waking moment, and he was right.
“Sure.” The wary expression on her face faded. “Tell me about the project. What was the brief?”
“Architectural style with sustainability. It’s a multifunctional space. General living, family time, some corporate entertainment. They have a social conscience. Green roofs reduce heating and cooling costs. They’re reducing their carbon footprint. Everybody wins, including me.”
“It’s not winning if it
