Sleepless in Manhattan (From Manhattan with Love 1)

“Well, he’s had loads of practice of course, but I think some men are born with great kissing DNA and have natural talent. I bet Jake is one of those. He’s the sort who pays attention.”

“I meant I don’t know why he kissed me.”

“Oh.” Eva blinked. “Presumably because he wanted to. What happened next? I need to know the ending. Don’t keep me hanging on—I’m terrible with cliff-hangers.”

“There is no ending.”

“There has to be an ending. He looked deep into your eyes and said, ‘This isn’t over, Paige’?”

“No. He said, ‘Gavin will drop you home. Get some sleep.’”

Eva looked taken aback. “That’s it? He was silent for the whole trip home? He didn’t smolder at you, reach for your hand or say ‘We’ll talk about this tomorrow,’ in that deep, sexy voice that makes you want to leap on him and strip him naked right down to the bone marrow?”

“I was on my own in the car. He walked home.” And that was the part that confused her most.

The bedroom door opened and Frankie walked in. “I heard you come home. Wanted to check everything went smoothly.”

“Jake kissed her. You missed the details.” Eva wiped a drop of coconut mask from her cheek. “I’m confused about why he walked home by himself.”

“That makes two of us.” Paige flopped back against the pillows. “I have no idea what’s going on. I kept waiting for him to say something and he didn’t. We virtually set fire to the building and he didn’t mention it.”

Frankie looked confused. “You set fire to the building?”

“With the kiss. And of course he didn’t mention it. He’s a guy.” Eva shifted on the bed and the scent of coconut wafted around the room. “Work. Sex. Beer. Sport. Big noisy engines. Anything that moves fast. That’s their world. Emotions are this murky, dangerous thing hovering in the background like bad weather they hope will pass them by.”

Frankie joined them on the bed. “That is generalizing, not to mention sexist.”

“It’s the truth. You always tease me, but I understand men better than you think.” Eva put down her empty mug. “If they can’t drill a hole in it, have sex with it, get drunk on it, kick it around a field, or watch it on a massive screen, they’re mostly not interested. That’s the way the male brain is programmed.”

Paige blinked. “Matt isn’t like that.”

“Of course he is! And he’s cleverer than most because he found a job that uses power tools. I mean, he could delegate but I’ve often seen him rigged up, drilling holes in concrete or sawing through tree trunks to make garden seats. He owns a tool belt. Does he have to do it? No, but blasting apart masonry and chopping down trees is one of the fun parts of the job, so he’s not going to delegate that bit. Come on, wake up.” Eva looked at her in exasperation. “I know he’s your brother but he has a man cave, Paige, complete with cinema screen, Xbox, weights I can’t even lift off the ground and a fridge full of beer. He has poker nights. Poker nights are an excuse for men to have conversations they wouldn’t have in front of women. I rest my case.”

Paige tried to adapt to this new image of her brother. “Sorry, what was your case?”

Frankie laughed. “Don’t train to be a lawyer, Ev. By the time you reached the end of your argument the jury would have forgotten the beginning.”

“I was saying that what Paige did with Jake didn’t fit neatly into any of those categories. I understand why he was confused.”

“He didn’t look confused. He looked—” She thought back to it. “He looked normal.” And she hadn’t wanted him to be. “I was the one who was confused. Still am. So what happens now? I might see him in the office. I will see him in the office. Do I mention it? Do I not mention it?”

“Who started it? Who made the first move? Him or you?”

“I don’t know. One minute we were trapped and I was stressed, and then he held me for a moment and it just happened.”

“So it was him. He made the first move. Wow. I wish I could have seen that. Sounds like that movie with Cary Grant and—anyway, never mind. That’s good, because he won’t be able to say you were the one who put the moves on him. So what should you do? Mmm—give me a minute while I think.”

Frankie made an impatient sound. “Just ask him!”

“Ask him?”

“Yes! Walk into his office and say, why the hell did you kiss me? It’s called communication!”

Paige stared at her.

“Frankie might be right.” Eva slid off the bed. “I need to wash this thing out of my hair or tomorrow when you wake me up you’ll find a gnarled coconut in the bed. Go to sleep and have really dirty dreams.”

“I think the term you’re looking for is sweet dreams.”