Three Wishes_A Second Chance at Love Contemporary Romance Page 3

  "Where?" The word came out of his mouth, unbidden, unwanted, uncontrollable.

  Celia rattled off the address as she scrolled through her old-fashioned Rolodex.

  "Don't worry, kid. Unger can get off his fat ass and do the job."

  "Right on my way." The exact opposite, to be honest, but Noah couldn't help himself. The lure of a certain pair of green eyes made him forget about sleep—and common sense.

  "Since when is midtown on your way?" Sharp as a tack, Mahoney knew when a rat was present and recognized the smell. "Something going on you want to tell me about?"

  As much as he liked his boss, Noah wasn't the type to confide. If he were, what would he say? I kissed a stranger. She kissed me back. And I haven't been able to get her out of my mind since? Not fucking likely.

  "Found my second wind."

  "Right." Mahoney didn't buy Noah's excuse. "Do I have to remind you to be professional? Every time you—"

  "Every time I go on a job, I represent Mahoney Movers." The warning was burned into Noah's brain. "Be courteous, be efficient, be professional. Has anyone ever complained?"

  "No," Celia interjected with a firm shake of her head.

  "First time for everything."

  Noah told himself all he wanted was another look. Somehow, his mind inflated Andi Benedict's appeal to near epic proportions. All he needed were a few minutes with her to remind himself what he already knew. A woman was a woman. Sometimes sexy, often exciting, and always easily forgotten.

  "Tell me what needs to be done." He took the address from Mahoney. "Just a job, right? One I do day after day. Never messed up yet. If Ms. Benedict calls to complain, fire me. Better yet, I'll save you the trouble and quit."

  "Don't be silly." Celia jumped in when her husband merely raised an eyebrow. "Tell him, John. The last thing we want is to lose Noah."

  Mahoney let out a heartfelt sigh. Any sign of distress from Celia made him melt faster than an ice cube in July.

  "Get the hell out of here." He headed to his office. Without turning, he grumbled, "My office, my rules." Then, slammed the door.

  Celia gave Noah's arm a reassuring pat. But her dark eyes were wary.

  "Do you know Ms. Benedict?"

  Noah was a consummate liar. He could swear the sun was blue and sell the tale with absolute conviction. Yet, when he cared about someone—he could count heads on the one hand—he lost the ability to prevaricate with any conviction. An odd character trait he discovered when he actually had someone for whom he gave a damn.

  "She and I met. Briefly at her runway show."

  "When did you become a fashionista?" Celia teased.

  "Don't know silk from nylon." And didn't give a crap either way. "I worked security."

  "One of your many side jobs." With a nod, she smiled. "Harper's Bazaar calls Andi Benedict an up and comer."

  Celia looked hopeful as if she expected Noah to give her the lowdown on hem lengths.

  "If you want a critique, can't help. The models were too thin, the designer wasn't. End of story."

  Noah thought of the way Andi felt in his arms, the surprisingly lush curve of her breasts against her blouse and the way his hand felt on the slight but sexy curve of her hip. Memorable didn't begin to describe the all-too-brief brush of her body against his.

  "End of story, my Aunt Fanny." Celia grinned. "More like, to be continued."

  "We're from different worlds." A major understatement. "Besides, I have a job to do. Nothing more."

  "If you say so." Obviously unconvinced, Celia shooed him on his way. "Don't want to be late. A woman with Andi Benedict's connections could send a lot of work our way. So, don't screw up."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  With a tip of an imaginary cap, Noah exited the office. He wasn't two steps down the hall when the door opened.

  "One more thing," Celia said as her head peeked through the opening.

  "I'll be good." Jeez, how many times did he have to make the same promise?

  "Or not."

  Now he was confused.

  "What?"

  "Job first, naturally. However, if the chance for a little fun arises, grab hold. Sometimes you take life too seriously. Andi Benedict is a beautiful young woman. You're a handsome young man. A little intermingling wouldn't hurt anyone."

  "A little intermingling? Interesting turn of phrase."

  "I thought so." Celia's smile widened. "About dinner. The invitation is open-ended. Tonight. Tomorrow. Any day. And if you want to bring a friend? Blonde. Long legs. Feel free."

  The door snapped shut. Bemused by the exchange, Noah took the stairs at a brisk pace. The building was vintage New York. Old in origin, yet newly renovated to reflect the modern age while holding onto the past. The elevator, installed in the 50s, worked with well-oiled, twenty-first-century precision. However, Noah preferred the stairs whenever possible. Not a fan of closed-in spaces, the steel box held by cables was an option he took only when necessary.

  Down five flights of stairs, he left the quiet building and a cacophony of city sounds greeted him. Horns honked, engines roared, drivers groused, and pedestrians, inured by the daily routine, weaved past their fellow man and woman with one thought in mind. Their destination.

  Noah looked around, filling his lungs with good old New York air. He loved every noisy, smelly, congested inch. Born and raised, a native to his bones, he couldn't imagine why he would live anyplace else.

  A taxi stopped five feet away. Noah could have taken the cab uptown, charged the fair to Mahoney as a necessary expense. Instead, he held the door for a woman laden down with shopping bags. She gave him a grateful smile, which he returned and headed for his kind of transportation—the subway. The kind of place he imagined Andi Benedict wouldn't be caught dead.

  Different worlds, Noah thought as he disappeared underground. They were from different freaking universes.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ~~~~

  BOLTS OF FABRIC filled the shelves of the small room just off Andi's office. The house she shared with her sisters, their mother, servants, and Mrs. Finch, was big enough to accommodate her fledgling business. Six floors. Room after room, some used, while others went unvisited for weeks, sometimes months at a time except for the staff's weekly dust, vacuum, and general cleaning.

  Andi thought of the mansion as her safety blanket. Though failure was never an option, if for some unimaginable reason success eluded her, the idea of a rented space she had to clear out, head hung, would be sad and pathetic. Instead, Andi stayed where the vibe was positive, the kitchen, and a warm meal a few flights away, and best of all, her sisters were nearby whenever she needed a shoulder to lean on—or sympathetic ear always willing to let her vent built-up frustration.

  Hands on hips, Calder looked around the room. She was dressed for a late-afternoon business meeting in a sleek, blush-pink dress and lavender, sky-high heels. Before she left, she'd stopped by to see if Andi needed any help.

  "The company I hired to move my inventory and some furniture will be here any time. But thanks for the offer."

  Andi checked her inventory list. Organized to within an inch of her life, she knew what supplies were on hand at any given moment, down to the last button and spool of thread.

  Though she enjoyed number crunching, Andi was first and foremost an artist. She preferred to spend her day drawing, cutting patterns, or hunched over a sewing machine. Organization on the business side freed her mind and allowed her to be more creative.

  "You don't have to move. Knock out the south wall, you'd have plenty of space." Frowning, Calder flipped her dark ponytail over her shoulder. "Why bother with an office downtown when you have everything you need right here?"

  "You mean other than space and privacy?" Andi raised an eyebrow. "Besides, I could ask the same of you."

  Calder ran a fledgling but on the rise charity. Today, Erica's Angels was small, but a passion burned inside her sister to help people who, unlike the Be
nedict family, didn't have the resources to help themselves. From the time she was a little girl, Calder wanted to make a difference. Her dream was to make the world a better place. And with every dollar raised, she made strides to do just that.

  "Think of the money you'd save if the headquarters of Erica's Angels were right here at home."

  "And have Billie in my hair every time she's between men—like now?" Calder shuddered. "No, thanks."

  "Yet, you expect me to keep our easily bored mother amused?"

  Calder's lips twitched as Andi watched her suppress a smile. They had two choices where their self-involved mother was concerned. Laugh, or scream with frustration. Luckily, the Benedict sisters had a well-developed and off-beat sense of humor.

  "You put up with her for the past three years. What's changed?"

  "Two things. First, Billie's in an unheard-of male companion dry spell. Yesterday, I found her rooting through my precious, thousand dollars a bolt, Chinese silk." Unlike Calder's mild shudder, when Andi remembered the way their mother casually tossed a roll of the red embroidered material onto the floor, her entire body shook.

  Sympathetic, Calder gave Andi a one-arm hug.

  "Billie doesn't play well with others. Never has. In her myopic view of the world, everything and everyone is a toy put here for her amusement. She grabs without asking and could care less if she breaks a few hearts along the way."

  "The many, many men Billie had dated and the handful she's married are adults. Hardly innocent, they know her reputation. Yet, they line up like lambs to the slaughter. Waste of time handing out any sympathy—on either side."

  "True. The problem isn't the men Billie tosses away as casually as a used tissue."

  "No?" Andi had to laugh. "What is the problem?"

  "Our mother may have run through every eligible man on the eastern seaboard." With a resigned sigh, Calder squeezed Andi's shoulder. "I never thought I'd say the words. But, sister, we may have to find Billie a date."

  Andi's eyes boggled to the point she had to blink for fear they would pop from the sockets.

  "Please tell me you aren't serious."

  "Only because I don't dislike anyone. Trouble is, we're too likable. We don't have any enemies to throw into the lioness' den." Calder grew thoughtful, a glint of mischief in her dark eyes. "Maybe Destry has a suggestion."

  "The men Destry deals with aren't enemies," Andi pointed out. "They're low criminals."

  "I hate what she does. Too bad Destry is so skilled she never runs out of job offers."

  Andi agreed. But nothing they could say would turn their sister from her chosen profession. Before they were old enough to understand the concept, the Benedict sisters lived by their own unshakable creed. The reason Destry, all of them, could be themselves. They gave each other what their parents couldn't. Unconditional love, support, and acceptance.

  "Back to your original point. I always planned to move my office away from home. With my first collection out in the world, the time feels right."

  "Now, or never?" Calder nodded with complete understanding. "Easy to get comfortable and complacent. Now and then, you have to shake up your routine to stay sharp."

  "And in any business, sharp keeps the sharks at bay."

  Laughing because what Andi said was true as well as funny, the sisters linked arms and headed for the stairs.

  Built by their great-grandfather as a symbol of his success more than a place to relax and call home, the Benedict mansion was a showplace filled with priceless treasures any museum would covet.

  Paintings by grandmasters and established modern artists hung on every wall. Sculptures, delicate and modern adorned antique tables. On the floors, hand-woven Persian rugs covered gleaming hardwood.

  To a visitor, the beautiful works of art were awe inspiring. To Andi and her sisters, the parts added up to the whole and equaled home.

  Not that they took their situation for granted. Just the opposite. One of the reasons each of them was dedicated to their chosen profession was their need to prove they were more than society darlings gifted with wealth and power. The Benedict sisters each chose a different path, but the goal was the same. To make their mark. And, each in her own way, each day, little by little, did exactly that.

  "I love our home."

  "Me, too." Calder stopped at the top of the second-floor staircase. The open, loft-like landing gave them a view of the stained oak front door and large marble foyer. "Well, what do we have here? Seems our worries were premature. Billie found a man all by herself."

  Andi wasn't surprised by the news. Their mother attracted the opposite sex like a lush pot of honey set before a swarm of bees. Casting her gaze on the room below, she watched a familiar scene play out.

  Billie, dressed in a sheer, flowing caftan, her golden hair highlighted with streaks several shades lighter than her natural color, had one hand on her hip, the other on the man's chest. One of Billie's signature moves, she liked to establish physical contact as quickly as possible. She leaned close, a smile on her lips. Closer. Closer. Until her signature scent, floral and almost sticky, enveloped her prey.

  "He's tall," Calder whispered as they continued to observe. "Plays right into Billie's helpless woman act. Look at her. So hungry for a bite, I can see a dab of drool in the corner of her mouth even from here."

  Andi bit back a laugh. The man wore jeans and a scuffed pair of work boots.

  "Must be one of the men here to move my stuff." Like Calder, Andi kept her voice low. "Think I should rescue him?"

  "Nope. Body language says a lot. From here, I'd say he's a willing participant."

  Calder was right. Physically, the man looked capable of handling the situation. And as pushy as Billie could be, she wasn't an exhibitionist. This afternoon, she would set the groundwork. Later, when she had her willing victim alone, she would finish the seduction.

  The man's back was to them, his voice muffled. Yet, as Andi continued to watch, she had the feeling they'd met before.

  "Does he look familiar?"

  "Can't say." Calder tilted her head. "Nice butt. Young. A plus in Billie's book. Why, do you know him?"

  "Something familiar about him, but I can't say what."

  Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, the man stepped back from Billie. Naturally, Billie stepped with him, certain her appeal was too much to resist.

  "I appreciate the offer, ma'am. But I'm not interested."

  "Wow," Calder snorted. "When was the last time a man turned Billie down?"

  Andi didn't answer. How could she when the second she recognized the man Billie literally had her claws into, her chin hit the floor?

  "Noah?"

  Part surprised question, part jolt of excitement, she barely sighed his name, but Calder heard her loud and clear.

  "You know him?" Her sister grinned. "Why didn't you say so? I want the story later—every juicy detail. Right now, let's save your friend from Billie's clutches."

  "He isn't my friend." Noah wasn't anything to her, not really. Andi stopped Calder when her sister would have rushed down the last of the stairs. "Wait. Just a minute more."

  Maybe her need to observe Noah's reaction to her mother as Billie amped up her attempted seduction wasn't fair. True, she was curious to see how he would handle such an immovable force of nature. But a different reason kept Andi still. A reason she wasn't proud of.

  Fair or not, she needed a question answered. Was Noah like every other man who Billie set her sights on?

  As teenagers, Andi and her sisters lost more than one potential boyfriend due to their mother. How could they date someone who lost interest—temporary or not—the second Billie Benedict gave him one of her patented breathy greetings? Simple. They couldn't.

  While Andi's gaze was locked on the couple below, Calder's eyes watched her sister. And saw everything.

  "You like him," she whispered.

  "I don't know him."

  "Then why do
you care if Billie latches onto him?"

  "Because…"

  Andi shrugged. Why did she care? Because she saw him first? A childish answer, but accurate. Unlike Billie who considered every woman competition—her daughters included—she couldn't see the point. Her ego didn't need every man on earth to fall at her feet. But just once, Andi wanted to meet a man who didn't take one look at her mother and fall. Hook, line, and sinker.

  "I don't like Noah. But maybe I could. If—"

  "If he were immune to our mantrap of a mother." Calder understood as well as anyone.

  "Look, Ms. Benedict." The volume of Noah's voice rose to a near shout. "I was hired by your daughter to do a job. Would you please let her know I'm here?"

  Billie, never one to give up easily where a man was concerned, licked her lips like a cat ready to pounce on a sweet bowl of cream.

  "All Andi thinks about is business. Me? I like to have fun." Billie cocked her hip in Noah's direction. "Want to join me?"

  "No."

  "Excuse me?" Billie blinked, her expression confused.

  "No, thank you." Eyes cool, Noah crossed his arms. "Lady, my crew and I have a job to do. They'll be here any second. Now, are you going to call your daughter, or not?"

  Galvanized, Andi finally moved, a bounce in her step. Maybe Noah wasn't like every other man on the planet.

  "I'm right here," she called out. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

  "I didn't wait long."

  Noah gave her proffered hand a shake. His palm was exactly as Andi remembered. Warm, slightly calloused, and oddly familiar, while at the same time new. Their eyes met, and somehow, she felt his thoughts mirrored hers. The attraction was instant, mutual, and exactly welcome.

  One side of his mouth tipped upward in a wry smile as though he understood Andi's reservations. She had time for a man in her life as long as he didn't want anything heavier than casual. Fleetingly, crazily, she had the feeling if she let Noah into her life, nothing would be casual. If she could recall their brief kiss with perfect, breathtaking clarity, what would happen if they tried for more?

  As Noah's gaze dropped to Andi's mouth, he shook his head and sighed. She felt the same breath of air leave her lungs. Seemed they shared a regret for something they'd never known and if they were smart, never would.