New York's Finest Rebel. Trish Wylie

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      ‘I still can’t believe you’ve done this to me.’

      A smile sounded in Olivia’s voice. ‘Which part? Moving out, putting you in a bridesmaid dress or telling Danny about the apartment next door?’

      ‘I think you know what I mean,’ Jo smirked sarcastically. ‘I need a new BFF; my ideal man could have moved into that apartment if you hadn’t mentioned it to Mr Personality.’

      ‘Since when have you been looking for an ideal man? And anyway, he won’t be there long. Short lease, remember?’

      ‘If he renews I’m making a little doll and sticking dozens of pins in it.’ Leaving the mirror where she had been staging a personal fashion show in front of hyper-critical eyes, she headed for the kitchen. ‘But just so you know, he’s determined I’ll move first.’

      Since everyone who had ever lived in Manhattan knew what their apartment meant to a New Yorker, she didn’t have to explain how ridiculous it was for Daniel to think she was going anywhere. The apartment she’d shared with Olivia—and from time to time still did with Jess—was a few hundred square feet of space she could call her own.

      She hadn’t worked her butt off to end up back in a place she’d sworn she would never find herself again.

      ‘You saw him already? Is there blood in the hall?’

      ‘Not yet. But give it a few weeks and only one of us is leaving this building intact.’ Lifting the empty coffeepot, she sighed at the heavy beat coming from across the hall. ‘Can you hear that?’

      She held the phone out at arm’s length for a moment.

      ‘My brother and classic rock go together like—’

      ‘Satan and eternal torture?’ Jo enquired.

      ‘Probably not the best time to mention he’s agreed to be in the wedding party, is it?’

      ‘I am not walking up the aisle with him.’

      ‘You can have Tyler.’

      Good call. She loved Tyler Brannigan. He was fun to be around. ‘I thought he was determined he wasn’t wearing a monkey suit. How did you talk him into it?’

      ‘Danny? The same way we got him to his niece’s birthday party last month. Only this time Blake helped …’

      Meaning he’d lost a bet. Jo smiled a small smile at the idea of Liv’s new fiancé tag-teaming with the rest of the Brannigan brothers against one of their own on poker night. She spooned coffee granules into the percolator. Go Blake.

      ‘How did he look to you?’

      The question made Jo blink, her voice threaded with suspicion. ‘Same as he always looks. Why?’

      ‘I take it you haven’t watched the news today.’

      ‘No.’ She stepped into the living room and pointed the remote at the TV screen. ‘What did I miss?’

      ‘Wait for it …’

      The report appeared almost instantaneously on the local news channel. Unable to hear what was said without racking the volume up to competitive levels, she read the feed across the bottom of the screen. It mentioned a yet-to-be-named Emergency Services Officer who might or might not have unhooked his safety harness to rescue a man on the Williamsburg Bridge. If it was who she thought it was Jo could have told them the answer. The camera attempted to focus on a speck of arm-waving humanity among the suspension cables at the exact moment another speck closed in on him. For a second they came dangerously close to falling; a collective gasp coming from the crowd of gawkers on the ground. At the last minute several more specks surrounded them and hauled them to safety.

      A round of applause sounded on the screen as Jo shook her head. ‘You got to be kidding me.’

      ‘I know.’ Olivia sighed. ‘Mom is climbing the walls. It was tough enough for her when he was overseas …’

      ‘Did you call him?’

      ‘He’s not picking up.’

      Jo glared at the door. ‘I’ll call you back.’

      In the hall, she banged her fist several times against wood before the music lowered and the door opened.

      ‘Call your mother,’ she demanded as she thrust her cell phone at him.

      ‘What’s wrong?’

      Ignoring what could have almost been mistaken for concern in his deep voice, she turned her hand around, hit speed-dial and lifted the phone to her ear.

      ‘You’re an inconsiderate asshat,’ she muttered.

      The second his mother picked up she thrust the phone at him again, snatching her hand back when warm fingers brushed against hers.

      ‘No, it’s me. I’m fine. Someone would have called you if I wasn’t. You know that.’ He took a step back and closed the door in Jo’s face.

      Back in her apartment, she froze and swore under her breath at the fact he had her cell phone. Her life was in that little rectangle of technology. Hadn’t stopped to think that one through, had she? Marching back to the kitchen, she lifted the apartment phone, checked the Post-it note on the crowded refrigerator door and dialled his sister’s new number.

      ‘He’s talking to your mother now.’

      ‘What did you do?’ Liv asked.

      ‘Told him exactly what I thought of him.’

      ‘To his face?’

      Picking up where she’d left off, Jo hit the switch on the percolator. ‘I’ve never had a problem saying what I think to his face. You know that.’

      There was a firm knock against wood.

      ‘Hang on.’ When she opened the door and her gaze met narrowed blue eyes, she took the phone from him, replacing it with the one in her hand. ‘Your sister.’

      Lifting the receiver to his ear, he stepped across the threshold. ‘Hey, sis, what’s up?’

      Jo blinked. How had he ended up in her apartment? Swinging the door shut, she turned and went back to the kitchen. If he thought it was becoming a regular occurrence, he could forget it. She wanted to spend time with him as much as she loved the idea of having her fingernails pulled out. Glancing briefly at the room that seemed smaller with him in it, she frowned when he looked at her from the corner of his eye.

      His gaze swept over her body, lingering for longer than necessary on her feet. What was that?

      Jo resisted the urge to look down at what she was wearing. There was nothing wrong with her outfit. If anything, it covered more than the one she was wearing last time he saw her. Personally she loved how the high-waist black pants made her legs seem longer, especially when accompanied by a pair of deep purple, skyscraper-heeled Louboutins. Five feet six inches didn’t exactly make her small. But considering the number of models towering over СКАЧАТЬ