Sleepless in Manhattan (From Manhattan with Love 1)

“It’s so cute.” She smiled. “A genie lamp. Do I rub it?”

“You tap it.” He tapped his finger on the screen and she watched, intrigued as he took her through the different features. “It’s easy to use, so even nontechnical people will find it easy. Your clients can use it to send requests for concierge services. Laura can filter them and

direct them to the appropriate person. It means you don’t have to be involved with simple requests. If the dog needs walking or someone needs dry cleaning collected, Laura can allocate it to the best person. Frees you up to deal with the events and more complicated requests.”

She asked him a few questions, and then experimented herself. “This is amazing. I love it. Did you program it yourself?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ve been so busy with that pitch in San Francisco and—I didn’t think you did much of the hands-on work now. Apart from cyber security. I thought you were all about clients.”

“I am.”

She handed the tablet back to him. “So why did you program our app?”

“Because it was for you. You needed it.” His gaze held hers and she felt warmth spread through her.

“Thank you. We’ll pay you, obviously.”

“I don’t want you to pay me. And I have to do something with my time since I’m sleeping less than usual.” He waited while their waitress delivered food to the table, an array of small dishes with warm freshly baked pita bread. “What shall we do this weekend?”

She smiled. “I’m going to keep you awake.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Just because a man doesn’t ask for directions, doesn’t mean he isn’t lost.

—Paige

THAT SATURDAY, THEY walked the High Line, the historic disused railway track that had been transformed into Manhattan’s highest public park. A mile and a half long, it meandered through the neighborhoods of West Manhattan, a vibrant, verdant walkway of rambling gardens, wildflowers, grasses and shrubs softening the hard angles of the surrounding buildings.

When they were tired of walking, they bought coffee and settled themselves in a beautiful shady nook directly above West Fifteenth Street. From here they had sweeping views of the Hudson River, the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty.

“I love this place.” Jake squinted against the sun. “It reminds me that things don’t have to stay the same. That they can change, be reborn and regenerated.”

Settling her coffee in her lap, Paige stretched out her legs and tilted her face to the sun. “That’s your whole job, isn’t it? Finding new ways to do things? Refreshing the old?”

“I don’t refresh. I innovate.”

She closed her eyes and smiled. “Mr. Sensitive.”

“No woman has ever called me sensitive before.”

“I know all your sensitive parts.” Her phone rang and she opened her eyes and dug it out of her bag. “I ought to check who this is—” It was her mother, and she answered it with an apologetic glance toward Jake.

“Mom?” She turned away slightly, smiling as she listened to her mother’s excited update on their latest travel adventures around Europe. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy you’re having such a great time— Yes, everything is fine here. Work is great. Couldn’t be better.” She talked to her mother for a little while, and then ended the call. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” Jake finished his coffee. “You’ve got a mother who wants to know how you’re doing. You get on well together. You’re lucky.”

She toyed with her coffee. “Did you ever think about trying to contact your mother? Your real mother? When we talked about it that time, years ago, you said you were thinking of it.”

“What would be the point? I figured that if she’d wanted to know where I was and what I was doing, she would have stayed in touch. She was the grown-up. I was the kid. She knew exactly where I was living.”

She pressed closer to him and he turned his head and smiled.

“Don’t look at me like that, with those big sad eyes. It was a long time ago. I can honestly say I rarely think about it now.”

That might be true, but the experience had become part of who he was, she knew that. “If you ever want to talk about it—”