A Diva in Manhattan: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance. Aubrie Dionne

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      Alaina looked for another cab, preferably one with a nicer driver. No luck.

      She sighed and muttered under her breath, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

      Only when she’d plopped inside did she remember to look out the window for the construction guy, but a large bus had pulled up beside the cab, blocking her view. A young boy stuck his tongue on the window and wiggled his fingers over both ears.

      Lovely. Just one more reason to stay away from kids.

      What was she doing anyway? Those construction workers were all grunts who drank beer, whistled at women, and watched sports on TV. Any relationship with one of them would last all of two seconds.

      Alaina sighed, playing with the ring on her finger. One of these days she’d meet her match.

      ***

      “You’re more likely to fly a green pig to Mars than meet the likes of her.”

      Brett ignored his friend and watched the woman slip into the cab, awestruck. Her hair shone like a sunset on fire, reminding him of the many times he’d sit with his father on the side of Saddleback Mountain and watch the evening spread over the valley of forest below their log cabin.

      The woman’s fox like features were both alluring and innocent, like she’d lived in a bubble her whole life. The way her fur coat clung to her shapely body stirred urges within him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He hadn’t wanted anything since the fire, not like the way he wanted her.

      The cab drove away, and the familiar ache of loss settled in his gut. He’d probably never see her again. “Who do you reckon she is?”

      Phil shrugged and picked up his drill. He was fifteen years older than Brett with graying hair and thick wrinkles around his eyes. “Probably some opera diva from the Met with a stick up her ass the size of a flagpole.”

      His friend started drilling, and Brett searched the curb where she’d stood. Opera? He’d never see an opera in his entire life. All he could think of was Vikings screaming at the top of their lungs and a conductor wearing a powdered wig waving his arms around. Not the most enjoyable pastime.

      Phil stopped drilling and reached for another nail. He glanced up at Brett with an apologetic expression, as if he hadn’t realized how far he’d fallen. “A man can dream, right?”

      Brett shrugged, trying to push away this sudden urge to find her. He hadn’t dreamt about anything in a long time. Not since he’d left Maine to start over in the big city, where very little reminded him of the home he’d left behind. Except her sunset hair.

       Get moving. Stay on the job.

      Construction kept his mind busy, kept him from thinking about the past. He walked over to the loading truck and pulled out another plank of wood. The other guys complained about their backs, so he always took the heavy lifting jobs. Compared to logging, this was a piece of cake.

      Brett hefted the plank onto his shoulder and carried it to the guys on the scaffolding.

      His supervisor, Al Higgins, came over with one eye on his clipboard. “Time for a dinner break.”

      “I’m not hungry.” Brett placed the plank down on the curb. The last thing he wanted to do was sit down and stew over his life. “Give it to someone else.”

      Al tucked his clipboard under his arm. “Brett, you’re a hard worker, and I like that. But, everyone needs to eat sometime.” He gestured for two other men to pick up the plank.

      Brett crossed his arms. “I’d rather finish unloading.”

      Al pulled him aside. “To tell you the truth, I’d rather you did, too. You can unload those planks faster than any two men here. But, you know how it is. Government regulations and such.”

      Brett nodded. He didn’t want to get his supervisor in trouble just because he couldn’t be left alone with his own memories. “Got it.” He picked up his lunch bag from the giant cooler his team all shared and took a seat on the curb.

      Biting into his ham sandwich, he studied the grand building the woman had come out of. Maybe he should see an opera sometime. A comic opera - not something tragic. He’d had enough of that.

      A limo with the license plate DeBarr pulled up to the curb, and an older woman in black velvet stepped out while talking on the phone. Her gray hair was cropped around her face in small curls. “Don’t tell me you have another conflict!”

      Brett tried not to eavesdrop, but her commanding voice cut through the construction noise and the honking cars. He glanced away, pretending to be interested in the passing traffic and took another bite of his sandwich.

      “Project Wish is counting on you. You were going to be the biggest bid of the night.” She huffed, pacing back and forth as the limo waited in the fire lane.

      Brett swallowed another bite. Someone was going to get a ticket.

      “Fine.” The old woman hung up and stashed her phone in a fuzzy leopard purse. She turned to get back into the limo when she caught his gaze and looked him up and down. Her features changed from irritated to intrigued. “You, over there. Are you single?”

      Was she hitting on him? Brett stashed the rest of his sandwich in the bag. “Me?”

      “No, the other three hunks eating a sandwich.” She walked over and reached for his left hand. “Well, you’re not married, and you look like you’ll fit in the tux I have in the trunk.”

      One more breath and she’d be asking him to marry her. Brett stood and crumpled up his sandwich bag. “Listen, I have to get back to work.”

      He turned to leave, and she placed her hand on his arm. “I have an offer you won’t refuse.”

      Man, she had a grip like a python. Brett glanced at her wrinkled, boney hand, bejeweled in all types of diamond and gem rings. Only a shmuck would pull his arm away from an old woman. He’d have to convince her there were other fish in the sea. “Although you are beautiful, you’re not my type.”

      She laughed as if he was ridiculous. “This is hardly for me. It’s for Project Wish.”

      He scratched his head as anxiousness raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He had to get back to work. Chances were, the other guys hadn’t volunteered to unload the truck, and they needed those planks for the next phase of the project. But the intensity in her eyes made him wonder. “Project Wish?”

      “A nonprofit agency who lends aid to people who’ve lost everything in natural disasters like hurricanes, floods, fires…”

      “Fires?”

      She nodded. “Yes.”

      A sharp ache spread inside him. Images of his family’s log cabin in flames roared in his thoughts. Brett blinked them away. If he could help someone else who’d experienced such loss. “What do you want me to do?”

      She leaned in and dropped her voice. “I need someone to take the place of my son. He was supposed to attend this fundraiser tonight. It’s an annual auction to raise money СКАЧАТЬ