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“Manolos,” he said, holding up one of my prized pumps. “The lady has expensive taste.”
“The lady has only one pair,” I responded sadly. “So I hope you’re not going to throw them in the fire.”
“Hardly,” he said, the “r” of the word flattening with a surprisingly thick Boston accent. He set both pairs of shoes down on the hearth and proceeded to stuff them with crumpled newspaper.
“They’re not too wet,” he said. “I don’t think the fire will damage them at all, just help them dry. I’ll put some oil on them, though, if you’re all right with that.”
He opened up the box, which contained a rudimentary shoe shining kit.
“Where did you get that?” I asked. “It looks like an antique.”
“It was my father’s,” Sterling replied absently as he rummaged around and finally located a container of clear balm. He proceeded to dip a stained brush into the jar and rub it onto his shoes, one at a time.
“Oh, are you close?”
The question came out before I could help it. Sterling glanced up sharply before returning to his work, now brushing the polish into my shoes with vigor.
“He’s not around anymore,” he said quietly.
“Oh,” I said. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I shouldn’t intrude. Again.”
He looked up again, this time kindly.
“Skylar,” he said, and it was then I realized how much more I liked hearing my given name roll from his tongue. Much like before, the ‘r’ at the end wasn’t fully pronounced, rolling open with a subtle New England cadence that betrayed a working-class background he hadn’t quite erased.
“Yes?”
“You apologize too much.”
“I’m so—” I started before catching myself. Sterling gave me a cheeky half smile, and I couldn’t help but grin back. “Right,” I amended. “Okay.”
“Exactly,” he said with a wink before turning back to our shoes.
Ana entered the room with a tray bearing a teapot and a cup. When she noticed my presence, her expression briefly morphed into surprise before sliding back into easy affability.
“I believe you know Ms. Crosby, Ana,” Sterling said from his seat by the fire.
“Ah, yes, sir, a bit. I, um…”
“It’s all right, Ana,” Sterling said, echoing his words from before. I wondered if he tired of constantly having to reassure all the women he met. Clearly, he was disruptive to many of us. “You’re done for the night.”
“Yes, sir,” Ana said before leaving. “Good night.” With a quick, unreadable glance at me, she was gone, no doubt to gossip with Eric, if he was even still here, about what I was doing upstairs.
“Please,” Sterling said, indicating the tea. “You look frozen, so help yourself. I’ll call for a car and get another cup.”
He lifted himself easily from the hearth, and I couldn’t help but watch his finely shaped form as he strode out of the room. No wonder he kept himself such a secret at the office. With an ass like that, he’d have associates camped outside his door.
He returned shortly with his cell phone held to his ear and another teacup, which he set down on the tray. A woman’s voice said clearly that she would call him back shortly about the car.
“Cab companies call you back now?” I asked after he hung up.
“No, but personal assistants do,” he said with another impish half smile. My gut clenched. “How’s the tea?”
I took a sip. It was delicious, a sweet jasmine that I’d never had before. “Wonderful.”
He nodded. “It’s a blend I picked up the last time I was in Beijing. I’m no aficionado, but I thought it was pretty good.” His phone buzzed in his hand. “Sterling.”
The woman’s voice was more muffled this time, so I couldn’t understand what she was saying.
