Shaken And Stirred. Kathleen O'Reilly

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СКАЧАТЬ shrugged. “Her shift was over. She left. If you run, you could probably catch her before she hits the subway station.”

      Gabe bit back a curse and headed out into the long, lonely darkness that was Manhattan at the midnight hour. The outside air was cool and crisp and felt marvelous after being cooped up in the bar for so long. He broke into a run simply because he needed to move.

      Around the corner and down two flights of stairs was the station, occupied by the usual patrons. A group of late-night partygoers trying to find their way back to Jersey. A mediocre saxophone player blowing out what was supposed to be the blues. A few kids heading home. A set of foreign tourists taking pictures. And, yes, there was Tessa, standing alone, waiting for the train.

      “Why do you always do this? You know that one of us is supposed to walk you down here.”

      “I haven’t needed supervision after dark since Giuliani was mayor, Gabe. Besides, I got my mace. They know not to mess with me.”

      “Still.”

      “What are you really here for?” she asked him quite patiently. That was Tessa. Never out of sorts. His gaze skimmed over her, checking for some sort of weakness, but there wasn’t any, which for some reason always surprised him.

      Not that she was hard. Oh, no, Tessa was all cotton and smiles, but she held herself back, one step between her and the rest of the male world. Gabe included.

      However, there was something oddly vulnerable about the whacked brown hair that had never seen a decent cut juxtaposed against the model-sharp cheekbones that could cut glass. Like a painting half-done or a bridge half-built.

      A work in progress. That was Tessa, too.

      Her summer-green eyes look tired, but she was bouncing back and forth on the soles of her running shoes, still full of energy, going home to an apartment that would be gone in five days.

      “I wanted to hammer out the details before you went home. I got Danny to cover for me all day on Monday, so I think we’re good to go.” He was actually there to see if the bet had unsettled her, but she didn’t look worried. So if she wasn’t worried, then he wasn’t worried either.

      “You know this is only temporary.”

      “As long as you need. I don’t use the room much anyway. I can put everything in storage tomorrow.”

      “Don’t you dare touch a thing. I won’t take up any space. Besides, this is short-term. Temporary, just like you said. I’m not going to cramp your style. It’s all about education for me, Gabe. I’ve got a few notices posted around the campus, and on craigslist, so hopefully something will pop soon and I’ll be out of your hair. Three weeks tops.”

      “It doesn’t matter how long you stay. You know that.”

      “Yes, I do know that, and you’re a sweet man, but I need to take care of myself.”

      “I’m really not a sweet man, you know.”

      “You gonna make me move in all by myself, Mr. Unsweetened Man?”

      Gabe stuck his hands in his pockets. “How much furniture do you have?”

      “A twin bed, a nightstand and some books,” she answered, with a remarkably sweet smile.

      “Oh, yeah, that’ll take seven minutes to load up. I’ll borrow the truck from Cain and be there at ten.”

      The lights of the train appeared in the tunnel and she stood on tiptoe, planting a friendly kiss on his cheek, “You really are a sweet man.”

      “I’m not a sweet man.”

      Tessa pointed up the tracks. “Look, that old lady—she’s getting mugged!”

      Gabe took off running, but Tessa’s laughter stopped him in midstride.

      “Busted!”

      He walked back, whapped her on the arm. “I was going to clean up the place for you, but not anymore.”

      The doors on the train slid open, and she waved before slipping inside.

      Gabe didn’t bother to wave back. Sweet man, my ass.

      2

      MOVING DAY WAS A piece of cake. Of course, that’s the way of it when all your worldly possessions fit into three wooden packing crates. Except for the decrepit twin bed, which Gabe glared at, nostrils flaring in disdain—not a usual look for him. She didn’t like his judging her possessions—or lack thereof—and so Tessa protested a few minutes longer than she might have if he had remained glareless.

      Janice, her former roommate, had already moved out, and the apartment was depressingly barren. Tessa ignored the equally depressing sensation in her gut. Moving in was always a new adventure. Moving out was another change-of-address form and another adventure squandered.

      For once, Tessa wanted to know that when she changed her address it was because of something good, something positive, something that Tessa could be proud of.

      Gabe, not sensing Tessa’s emotional turmoil (typical male), hovered over the thin metal frame and then poked a finger at the mattress. “This is your bed?”

      It was stupid to get worked up over a mattress that belonged in a Dumpster, but seeing Gabe mentally inventorying her life reminded her of how far she still had to go.

      “A featherweight mattress is easier to move.” She slung it over one shoulder to demonstrate. “See?”

      He stood firm. “That’s not going into my place.”

      “This is my bed. What am I supposed to sleep on?”

      Gently Gabe disentangled her fingers from their death grip on the mattress. “I’ll buy you a futon.”

      “I hate those,” she began and then stopped, sighed. There was no point in lying—she loved futons. “I don’t want you buying me furniture. I can afford it.” And she could. Her savings account was surprisingly healthy considering her lack of furniture and fashionable attire. Tessa had priorities—namely the perfect one-bedroom apartment in Hudson Towers.

      And it was perfect. A prewar building on West End Avenue. With a board that kept out the riffraff, but wasn’t crazy-stringent about it either. Reasonable rents and maintenance fees a full seven percent less than the average. They had redone the shared space four years ago, a great use of morning light and windows. The place had a part-time doorman, Rodney, which was much more sensible than hiring a full-time doorman who would only sit on his heinie all day and earn union wages from overpriced rents.

      Ah, someday…

      “You sure you can afford a bed?” Gabe asked, pulling her out of her apartment fantasies. She hadn’t planned on buying a new bed, but her old one was on its last legs, literally. At her nod, he tossed the mattress in the corner.

      After that, she picked up a crate and headed for the door. “First ground rule—no more making fun of Tessa’s stuff. Observe the boundaries, we’ll be fine.”

      He opened the СКАЧАТЬ