Page 6

“Hale, did you see which way the brunette went?” I asked into the phone.

“Which brunette, sir? There must have been a hundred that walked by in the past thirty minutes,” the head of my security detail told me.

I pushed through the turnstile front doors of the grocery store and glanced back and forth down the street. There was no sign of her.

Damn it!

“Ah, forget it, Hale. I’m finished here. Bring the car around.”

I’ll catch up with you eventually, Miss Cole.

Chapter Two

Krystina

By the time I got back to my apartment, it was after four o’clock. I mourned for the lost day of relaxing in the sunshine as I tossed my keys, purse, and cracked cell phone onto the corner table by the front door. I was bone tired, and now it was too late in the day for reading in Central Park.

I contemplated taking my latest mystery novel to the nearby Washington Square but ended up deciding against it. At this time of the day, the park would be filled with music from street performers. The chance of relaxing in quiet solitude would be slim to none. In fact, just the thought of going back out was exhausting. Curling up on the couch would have to do.

I kicked off my sneakers and looked around the apartment. After more than four years of residing in Greenwich Village, I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the fifteen-hundred-square-foot flat I lived in, even though the three-bedroom unit was more than spacious enough for Allyson and me.

We each had our own rooms and en-suite baths, complete with custom vanities and heated marble floors. We had turned the third bedroom into an office and added a sleeper sofa for overnight guests. The arrangement worked out well whenever our friends or parents came for a weekend visit.

The place was truly beautiful, but I never felt like it was mine. Maybe if I were the one who paid the rent, I would feel differently. But then again, if my mother weren’t so neurotic about my safety in New York City, I could have flat out refused my stepfather’s extravagance and lived someplace within my budget. However, my mother didn’t want me living in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, which was all I could afford, and her lectures about crime in Brooklyn were endless.

Nevertheless, I drew the line there. I allowed Frank to pay the rent, but I refused to take the monthly stipend offered to me. I was perfectly capable of making my own money and buying my own food. My insistence on taking out student loans to pay for my college tuition was another huge battle with my mother—probably one of our biggest fights ever, but one I took satisfaction in winning.

My mother and I were like night and day. I was determined to make it in this world on my own. The sooner I could break free from my financial dependence on Frank, the better. My mother, on the other hand, seemed content just to be a rich man’s wife. She could never understand why I wanted to do things independently, especially when Frank was always so willing to foot the bill.

Yet, as infuriating as she could be, my mother’s heart was in the right place. She worried about me and didn’t want me to struggle like she had for so many years, a fact Allyson was always good at pointing out. Allyson was the only one who was able to talk me down after a heated battle with my mother.

In fact, I wasn’t sure if I could have managed to live here without Allyson, and I was thankful to have her as a roommate. She appreciated Frank’s lavishing more than I did and worked to make our apartment a place to call home.

I was absently thinking about where my friend might be tonight when the rumble in my stomach reminded me it was almost dinnertime. I flipped on the stereo and went into the kitchen. “Thirty Seconds to Mars” blared through the speakers as I opened the refrigerator to peruse the contents. I spotted last night’s leftovers on the shelf. The thought of a glass of wine and leftover pasta had my mouth watering. I was hungry, but I was a sticky coffee mess and needed to shower first.

I closed the refrigerator and went over to our makeshift wine bar to pour a glass of Bully Hill Riesling. Sitting on the bar was a note from Allyson.

Hey you! I called your cell, but it went right to VM. Clear your schedule for tomorrow night. 7 PM. Dinner and drinks at Murphy’s. I have news for you. Enjoy your wine! Love ya! — A

I smiled to myself as I swirled the sweet vintage around in my glass. My friend knew me too well. With the hubbub at Wally’s over the potential investors, the past week had been a rough one. Allyson was right to assume I’d unwind with a bit of vino.

“Oh, Ally. I wish you were home tonight,” I said softly, raising my glass in silent cheers to my friend.

I really wanted to talk to her about what had happened today with the sexy Mr. Stone. I felt like a complete idiot. She would probably fall over laughing at my story, but then she’d pour us both a drink and reassure me I wasn’t really a clumsy fool. Her laughter and assurances would have been the perfect medicine after such a mucked-up day.

I headed to the bathroom, glass in hand, wondering what news Allyson had for me. I turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature before stripping off my jeans and cappuccino-stained shirt. When I faced the mirror, I was shocked at what I saw.

My eye wasn’t just slightly swollen as I had initially thought it might be. It was turning a deep purple, with a small gash over my right eye. I peered closely in the mirror and tried to decide how much makeup I would need to cover up the bruise. I gingerly poked at the swelling for a minute before standing up to examine my reflection.

My hair was in complete disarray. I reached up to smooth out the unruly curls.

Just great. Blue Eyes got to see me rocking the Medusa look.

I turned to one side, then the other. My behind was sore, and I was surprised to see there wasn’t any bruising. However, despite the fact I managed to escape any real damage to my rump, I still frowned.

I really need to hit the gym.

A week off, and I was already seeing and feeling the effects. My voluptuous behind wasn’t going to fit into a size six much longer if I didn’t get back into a routine. Some girls were just naturally skinny. Unfortunately, that wasn’t me. I had to work at it.