The Schemer (Harbor City 3)

The pieces came together in thrilling detail. The wine followed by a walk through the downtown area. Then there was dinner filled with more laughter than she’d experienced in a while as Alberto regaled her with stories about the trials and tribulations of working in a hotel. He’d started off as a bellboy and had spent his life working hard to get to the point where he could not only buy the company but expand it into seven countries. It was so much different than her life. She’d been born into privilege and bred to adhere to the Harbor City elite code. Then there had been a ghost tour, then more drinks, and a stop at a clothing-optional rooftop bar. She hadn’t taken anything off, but it was definitely eye-opening. Finally, he walked her back to her hotel room. She’d invited him in for a nightcap and…now she was waking up with a naked man in her bed.

She should feel guilty—she was still wearing her wedding ring after all—but she didn’t. She felt…as if she’d crossed into new territory and it was exhilarating. That annoyed her. What if her boys found out? What would Michael say? Okay, that was a dumb question because he’d been gone for more than three years, but it still landed with an ice-cold kerplop in the middle of her chest because so much of what she did now centered around how she thought Michael would react. It was enough of a wake-up call to clear out any of the cobwebs and propel her into action.

Sitting up and taking the sheet with her, holding it close to her bare chest, she poked a finger into Alberto’s shoulder. “You have to go now.”

He rolled over, looking mussed and more than a little devastating. He gave her a sleepy grin but didn’t make a move to get out of bed. “Good morning, bellissima.”

“Go on.” She poked him again. “Scoot.”

Instead of getting out of bed, he sat up, letting the sheet pool around his waist, and took her hand, then landed a kiss in the center of her palm. “Such fire first thing in the morning. I love it. Are you nervous? You weren’t last night.”

Electricity zinged out from the center of her palm and up her arm, making her nipples pebble under the sheet. “I’m never nervous.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts, desire darkening his chocolate-brown eyes, before his attention traveled back up to her face, her mouth in particular. “You know it’s all right.”

Flustered by the unexplainable rise in temperature in the room, she tried to maintain as much dignity as possible while naked in bed with the first man she’d slept with since Michael died who insisted on thinking she wanted him to flirt with her—which she most definitely did not. She gave him the haughtiest look she could muster in her condition. “What is?”

“That we made love.” He trailed the back of his hand down her arm, the tip of one finger nearly brushing her puckered nipple.

“I know that.” Heat flamed in her cheeks while desire slid like warm honey through her. “I’m not an idiot.”

He shrugged and settled back against the pillows. “But you are a worrier, and right now you are worried about what others would think if they knew.”

The fact that he could read her so easily annoyed her. “You’re wrong.”

“Yes?” He leaned over and kissed her, his lips strong and demanding. “Then come to the Great Openings Gala with me when we return to Harbor City.”

A date? Her? At one of the events she always used to go to with Michael? The

fact that it was as much of a temptation as it was worried her. Damn it. She hated that Alberto had pegged her so perfectly. It brought out the stubbornness she usually laid at Michael’s feet when it was Sawyer or Hudson displaying it.

“I already have a date.”

“One of your sons?” He scoffed. “That doesn’t count as a date.”

She knew that. She’d told Hudson that specifically before he’d met Felicia, when he’d insisted on dragging his mother to events. At the time, she’d been trying to continue her mourning period well beyond when most people thought she should have been back to her normal self. She hadn’t been, but the public outings had brought back some of the joy she thought she’d lost forever. Was she ready for another boundary crossing like that? Was she ready for a date? If someone had asked her before last night, she would have told them no. After last night? She wasn’t so sure. And that really worried her.

Not sure what to do with the unfamiliar sensation of her own indecision, she fell back on what she knew best—ordering people around. “You can go now.”

If he was offended, Alberto didn’t show it. In fact, he seemed to see right through her brusque manner for what it really was, a set of defenses. Giving her a knowing smile, he got out of bed, completely at ease with strutting around her hotel room naked, his back and butt a testament to his workout regime, and strolled through the room picking up his clothes where they’d dropped last night. Once he was dressed, he returned to the bed, placing a hand on the mattress next to her hip and leaning down.

“Bellissima,” he said, his breath warm and sweet against her skin. “We’ll make arrangements when we return home.”

Anticipation skittered across her skin. “I didn’t say yes.”

“But you will.” He kissed her, strong and sure.

Alberto was too sure of himself by half, but—in this instant—he had no reason to be. Because she couldn’t say yes, and what would happen after that? She couldn’t even begin to guess.

Chapter Twenty

After Key West, the pre-winter chill hit a little bit harder when they returned a few days later to Harbor City with the art to be sold categorized and Alberto having stated his interest in hearing more about Tyler’s hotel expansion ideas and passing them along to the hotel board. Heading down Delancey Street with a bag full of groceries, Everly hunched her shoulders against the blast of wind cold enough to send the urban rats scurrying for shelter. The quicker she could get into her building, the sooner she could dig her wooly socks out from her dresser’s bottom drawer and defrost her toes. Of course, that wasn’t the only way she was hoping to warm up. There was a certain man in 2B who got her hot without even trying. Her Spidey sense tingled to life half a second before a deep, masculine voice hit her like a blast of the tropics. Forget wooly socks, she needed to go put on shorts and a tank top.

“I’ll carry that right up to my place,” Tyler said as his long legs brought him even with her.

“These are my groceries,” she shot back, relishing the easy teasing between them after another rough visit with her nunni.

He reached over and plucked the paper bag out of her arms, giving her a wink that would have decimated her panties if she’d been wearing any. “It’s easier for me to cook for you if there’s food in my apartment.”