I waited outside under the awning in the shade, scrolling through my cell phone messages. My sister Lucy had sent me some photos of the baby that were just too cute. Little Brigid was only three months old and they’d been giving her some tummy time. Her tiny face as she arched her back and tried to look around her was so sweet. She was like a little turtle straining to get out of the nest down to the ocean.
When the automatic doors slid open behind me, I looked back to see Stephen exiting the store, my smile at my niece’s gorgeousness still firmly in place. He blinked, like he’d forgotten I would be waiting here and surprised him. ‘Good news?’
‘Family pics,’ I explained, tilting my screen towards him as he joined me. He bent his head to see. ‘My niece. She’s a sweetheart, right?’
I appreciated the effort he made to lose the grumpiness as he looked at the baby. I was sure she looked just like any other baby to him, but he nodded and offered: ‘Beautiful big blue eyes.’
I scrolled down to the next photo, which wasn’t much different to be fair, but he politely continued looking. And while he was distracted, hands full of fruit, I tilted my head to see if that photo was still in the back pocket of his pants. I could just see the top corner of it…and the very fine curve of his ass; firm and infinitely grab-able. Was it genetics or exercise that made it that perky and…
‘Noelle?Noelle, are you checking out my butt?’
‘What?’ I snapped to attention again and almost lost my grip on my phone. ‘No. No way.’ I fussed with my bag, dropping my cell phone back into it, the screen of which I belatedly realised had gone to sleep, tipping him off that I was otherwise occupied. I’d been well and truly busted and his grin was so genuinely joyful at my mortification, I could’ve kicked him. ‘I was trying toget a look at that photo you have. Why don’t you want me to see it?’
That wiped the smile off his face, but he lifted a shoulder with manufactured casualness. ‘You can see it if you want. It’s very old. I didn’t think it’d be helpful. The focus is awful, and it’s faded.’
‘You must’ve thought it would be some use, else you wouldn’t have brought it. It helped jog that woman’s memory.’
He shrugged again. ‘We don’t need it at the moment though, do we.’
‘It will help with my plan, actually.’
‘Fine.’ His dark eyes pinned mine, daring me. ‘You want it, you can grab it. My hands are full.’
I hated that the idea was so tempting. I narrowed my eyes at him and took hold of the fruit instead. ‘Problem solved.’
With a half-smile, like he’d won but wasn’t particularly pleased about it for some reason, he reached back and pulled it from his pocket. ‘There.’ We exchanged goods again. ‘Does any part of the plan involve loitering here all day?’
‘No—’
‘Do we have anywhere else we can go today to move this search along?’
‘No—’
‘Then I’ll walk you home and you can explain your plan on the way.’ With that he strode off into the sunshine again and I had no choice but to tuck the photo away and hurry to catch up with him.
Chapter Sixteen
Stephen
Iwas counting on the cool, buzzing atmosphere of the office the following morning to restore me. The whole weekend had left me cranky and off balance.
I’d heard no more from Elle after walking her to Bloomingdales on Broadway yesterday where she’d arranged to meet a friend to look for an outfit for her niece’s christening. The same niece she’d used to divert my attention while she contemplated pick-pocketing me. What had I got myself into with her?
As we’d walked there, she’d talked the whole time about her “plans”, that over-sized hat making me feel like I was conversing with a flying saucer…though it was preferable to being skewered in the loins by one of her smiles. The one she’d had on her face as I came out the grocer’s had left me dizzier than a ride in a cable car. So bright and brilliant. So obviously not meant for me.
She was intending to call around all the Italian restaurants once she’d researched how long they’d been established for; fill in the details of her profile and put together some kind of missing-persons poster to distribute around the neighbourhood.
I really hadn’t wanted to give Elle that photograph. Particularly after the reaction of the woman outside the market. I hadn’t thought the faded image would show his face clearly enough that it would be so obvious to a stranger we were related. I’d always heard it, from Mum, her best friend, even Nan had commented on how much I took after him, despite only knowing him from around the area before Mum and David got married. But for a stranger to make the connection from a small, out-of-focus picture to me with half my face beneath a beard…I’d been sure Elle would realise.
Luckily, it didn’t seem she had. Though, if the people we approached noticed the similarities between him and I every time, she was going to figure it out very quickly. She was too sharp not to.
Perhaps I should tell her and get it over with? Giving her all the facts, like she kept saying, would likely be the smartest and most time-efficient thing to do. She had such a poor opinion of me already; what difference would it make?
And yet, I hated to think of the look on her face when we finally tracked him down. That was why I didn’t want Nick involved as well. Seeing where a man like him had ended up would be like a window into the future for me. I never wanted to promise a woman more than some short term fun because I didn’t want to risk hurting them, and the ease with which I kept things casual had only proved to me through adulthood that I was cut from the same cloth as my father. Butmyknowing it was one thing; seeing other people’s antipathy was entirely another.
I’d leave it for now. Elle had her plans and was highly motivated. I supposed I should have been happy too, but mainly I felt frustrated that I’d had to involve her in the first place. And yes, it was annoying that I found her so attractive and she had zero interest in entertaining even flirting between us.
Work was exactly what I needed. It was a place where things ran as they should. The crisp suits, the office banter, the permeating smell of coffee, made me feel like I was back where I belonged. There were no long-lost relatives to uncover, no disappointingly predictable anecdotes to listen to – well none that were relevant to my family heritage. And there was no red-headed time bomb strolling along beside me, ready to start interrogating random strangers and pushing all my buttons.
