“I’ll keep that in mind.”
There was something here, she thought. Just under their words. A feeling. A sense of something that wasn’t being said. Attraction yes, but that wasn’t all and it felt … off. He trusted her and she wasn’t going to do anything to ruin that. But at the same time, she had a threat hanging over her head that jeopardized everything in her life.
Suddenly, Charlie wanted to tell him all of it. To ask for help. But she was too afraid of what he might think. What he might do. She couldn’t lose her job. She couldn’t lose her son.
So, instead, torn with confusion and indecision, she settled for losing her mind.
“I’ll see you at the office,” she said and tossed her iced tea cup into the nearest trash can.
Then she walked alone down Fifth, part of the crowd, but separate. And she felt the heat of his gaze follow her.
“This is starting to become a habit,” Charlie said when she opened her front door to Vance three nights later. He smiled at her and Charlie’s heart did a slow flip and curl. The man was just … overpowering. Even now, when he was wearing blue jeans, a short-sleeved red shirt and a pair of boots, he exuded power and a sensual heat that should have been illegal.
Every evening since the first night he had brought her home, Vance had appeared at her door, and they’d gone for long walks with Jake. Sometimes they window-shopped, sometimes they stopped for cookies and a latte. Most of the time, they just took turns pushing Jake’s stroller and … talking.
And Charlie was getting way too used to it.
Vance leaned against the doorjamb and grinned at her. “Are you complaining?” he asked, then half turned. “Because I could leave …”
“No,” she said quickly. She wasn’t sure what was going on between her and her boss, but whatever it was, she liked it. Probably too much. “Not complaining.”
“Good.” His eyes fixed on her and Charlie’s heartbeat quickened. Then he squatted down to eye level with the toddler in his stroller. “So, Jake, where to tonight?”
The tiny boy squealed with delight and shouted “Ba! Ba!”
Vance looked up at Charlie. “He says a night at the ballet would be clichéd. He’d prefer a stroll through the park.”
“Well, then,” Charlie said, laughing, “by all means.”
Vance maneuvered the stroller out the front door and down the short set of steps to the grass. Charlie pulled the door closed behind her and locked it. Then she paused to take a quick look up and down her street. She loved it here.
Her apartment building had once been a grand old house, built to look like a Tudor-style English manor. Years ago, it had been converted into four apartments. She had the ground-floor apartment on the right side and her friend Katie was just upstairs. Charlie never would have been able to afford an apartment in this area ordinarily, but the owner was an elderly woman currently living in England and she had a soft spot for babies, so she’d made Charlie an excellent deal.
The streets in Forest Hills, Queens, were narrow and decked with trees that looked as though they’d been there for centuries. Her neighbors were quiet but friendly and Manhattan was just a train ride away. But here, New York moved more slowly and Charlie could almost convince herself that she was living in a small town again. It was a perfect place to raise Jake. She looked at Vance smiling at her son and thought, at the moment, everything was perfect.
“Where are you guys going tonight?” a woman’s voice called out and shattered the quiet.
Charlie sighed, turned and looked up. Katie was hanging out her living room window, grinning down at them. She had probably been haunting her window just waiting for Vance to show up. Charlie couldn’t really blame her. This was all so odd, so out of the ordinary …
“To the park,” Vance answered, then picked up the stuffed dog Jake had tossed.
“Have a good time,” Katie said, a teasing tone in her voice. Then she gave Charlie a knowing wink before darting back into her apartment. No doubt, Katie would be turning up with a bottle of wine and a dozen questions later tonight. Charlie only wished she had a few answers for her.
Charlie turned to Vance. “You realize that Katie has told everyone at Waverly’s about your coming to see me every night.”
He shrugged. “Do you care?”
She should, Charlie knew. Getting involved with Vance Waverly was probably a huge mistake. But looking into his eyes, she knew she couldn’t regret a moment of this—whatever it was. Every evening, when the light was just slipping away, he showed up to spend time with her and Jake. And every evening, she told herself not to expect him. Not to look for him. But she did anyway and when she saw him, her heart got a little more involved. How could it not? He was so good with Jake. And so much fun to talk to. And when he took her hand in his, she felt … treasured.
Silly.
“No,” she said firmly, “I don’t care.”
“Good.” He smiled at her as if she’d given him the perfect answer. “So let’s go.”
They walked a few blocks east and the world changed perceptibly. As lovely as her street was and as much as she loved it, Charlie always felt a little twinge of … not envy, exactly, just a bit wistful when she walked through Forest Hills Gardens. Exclusive mansions sprawled behind wide, manicured lawns and what looked like private forests.
“I haven’t been in this neighborhood since I was a kid,” Vance mused.
“You lived here?” Charlie couldn’t imagine living in a more beautiful spot. She could practically see Jake growing up on these gorgeous streets, riding his bike up and down circular driveways, climbing the majestic trees. Of course, that was a completely unrealistic daydream—but what was the point of having ordinary dreams?
“No, a friend of my father’s did,” Vance said. “We used to visit him a lot. Funny, I haven’t thought of this place in years. But it’s really nice, isn’t it? And close to the city.”
“It’s perfect is what it is,” Charlie said, with a little sigh of pleasure.
“Yeah?” He stopped pushing the stroller and looked at her. “If you had to pick, which house would you buy?”
She took a deep breath and smiled. “It wouldn’t be easy to choose, but I do have a favorite,” she admitted, because she had played this little game with herself every time she took Jake for a walk down there. There were brick mansions and bungalow styles. There was even a home with a red Spanish tile roof. But the house she loved had stood out for her from the beginning. Hooking her arm through his, she gave Vance a tug and said, “Come on. It’s a little farther down.”
Halfway down the block, she stopped. Giving his arm a squeeze, she said, “That’s my house. Well,” she added with a half shrug, “the owners don’t know it, of course.”
She always found the chance to walk past the house she considered her dream home. It was like an English cottage only bigger. It was three stories high with sloped roofs and dark red shutters on the windows.
