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Which didn’t quite jibe with his burning desire for Sarah to say yes.
“Because I’m not your type?” she questioned, confirming his earlier thoughts.
“You’re not my type.” He meant to say more, to elaborate on the reasons why, to elaborate on the fact that she intrigued him and he’d like to let down her hair, see her smile, hear her laughter so he’d know what it sounded like, but her sigh of relief had him holding his tongue.
“Fine.” She didn’t sound or look happy about agreeing so the smile and laughter might not be forthcoming anytime soon. “In that case, I’ll eat with you, but I’m eating, checking out this view you bragged about, and then I’m leaving, capisce?”
* * *
Sarah had bought her beloved apartment for three main reasons. Its walking distance proximity to Manhattan Mercy, it fitting within her budget, barely, and the spectacular view.
Just like the man, Jude’s view really did blow her away.
As did his apartment.
At some point, someone had taken two, maybe three, apartments and converted them into one luxurious one. His living room dwarfed hers, as did the floor-to-ceiling views of the twinkling New York City nightlife. Just wow.
Forget needing food. She’d just sit here, sip on the glass of wine he’d given her to keep
her occupied while he finished up their meal, stare out at the skyline, and soak up the energy of the busy city she adored, to revive her exhausted soul.
Having grown up in Queens in various dumpy housing projects, when they’d had a home, Sarah had great appreciation for how far she’d come, for the luxuriousness of her small apartment, and especially for the grandeur of the apartment she was currently in.
Listening to the soothing surround-sound music he’d turned on with the click of a remote control and a voice command, Sarah scanned the room. Simple, but high-quality furniture. Artwork that was probably originals. The gigantic remote control that seemed to control everything in the apartment. Jude lived way beyond a firefighter’s salary.
Which meant he either came from money or had another, more lucrative side job.
For a moment, she let her mind again toy with the idea of him being a hired escort. Ha, if so, maybe she should consider his services for her upcoming holiday events so she didn’t have to go by herself.
Not that she minded being single. Just that at certain events being solo stood out like a sore thumb. Like at engagement parties and weddings and various get-togethers with her coworkers.
Coworkers, which included her boss. Charles Davenport. Davenport. Jude Davenport.
Duh. How could she have been so blind?
The last name. The eyes. She’d not put two and two together, but her conclusion made perfect sense.
Jude’s eyes were the same blue as her boss’s.
His last name was also the same.
That couldn’t be a coincidence.
No way.
He was one of those Davenports.
“You ready to eat crow?”
Startled by his question, she jerked toward him, watching as he walked out of the kitchen, stepped up a step to where there was a table for four, and put down two plates.
Good grief, the man did things for a pair of jeans that ought to be declared illegal in every state but Alaska. Maybe there, it was cold enough to offset the burning heat that rose inside her every time she looked at him. Wowzers.
“Crow?” She arched a brow, grateful she’d forced her gaze up above his waistline as he turned toward her. “You told me you were serving chicken.”
He grinned. “I meant the view. It’s phenomenal, isn’t it?”
Yeah, it was and she didn’t just mean the New York City skyline. Seeing the eagerness with which he waited for her to respond, she marveled at the unexpected layer to him. He appreciated his view of the city that much?
