Sunset In Central Park (From Manhattan with Love 2)

“No. Not that it’s any of your business, but I need to put in some hours at the workshop.”

“You mean you want to play with your chain saw. I get it. Nothing like power tools for working off tension. Boys with toys. I know all about it.”

“I’m not a boy.”

“Yeah, I know that, too.” She blew her hair out of her eyes and eyed his biceps. “I’m trying not to focus on that side of things. I’ve never worked for a sexy boss before. This is all new to me.”

He sighed. “Roxy—”

“Hey, the boss I had before I got pregnant was sixty-five and weighed two hundred and thirty-eight pounds. I’m still getting used to the novelty of having something to look at during my working day, so give a girl a break. Go. I’ll be fine. I’m going to finish the decking and clear up. And I’ll make sure James works until the heat fries him to a crisp. Don’t worry about us. We’re the A team.”

He wasn’t worried about them. He was worried about Frankie.

He’d never seen anyone so freaked out.

She’d run away so fast his ego probably should have sustained permanent damage, except he knew that the reason she’d sprinted away was not because she wasn’t interested but because she was.

That cheered him up and he paused to help James move one last slab. “Can you manage here?”

“No worries.” James’s muscles bunched. “A man’s love life has to take priority.”

Matt decided that one of the downsides of working in a small team was that everyone had an opinion on his love life. “I’m going to the workshop. We still have two rustic seats to carve.”

“I get it. Nothing like hammering and sawing to take your mind off problems of the heart. Women, huh?” James gave him a sympathetic slap on the shoulder. “There’s no understanding them.”

“That’s because you’re a dumbass,” Roxy said cheerfully. “We’re easy to understand if you take the time. Oh, and boss? I wouldn’t be too worried.”

“Why is that?”

“Because she was checking out your butt, too.”

That, Matt decided, was the best news he’d had all day.

Chapter Five

Before you run from something, make sure whatever is chasing you can’t run faster.

—Paige

Romano’s was crowded, even for a Friday night. Owned by Maria, Jake’s adoptive mother, the Sicilian restaurant was a thriving Brooklyn eatery. Tonight all the tables were full and a line stretched around the block. The restaurant was noisy and busy, the spacious room echoing with the sound of conversation, the clink of cutlery and the occasional shouts from the kitchen. Delicious smells wafted through the space, the aroma of roasting peppers mingling with the Mediterranean scent of oregano and garlic.

Frankie slid into the booth by the window where Paige and Eva were already seated. “I’m in trouble. Serious trouble.”

Eva choked on her water. “You’re pregnant?”

“What? No!” Appalled, Frankie glanced around to check no one had overheard. “How can I be pregnant? To be pregnant I’d have to have sex and I haven’t had sex in—

I don’t even remember.” In fact, she did remember. She remembered perfectly, but it wasn’t an experience she intended to revisit. Nor did she intend to share the humiliation with her friends.

You’re a D minus, Cole, with nothing for effort.

That experience was a large part of the reason she couldn’t let this thing with Matt go any further. She had to find a way to stop right now. She had to make it clear she wasn’t interested. Or she had to stop him being interested.

“I don’t remember when I last had sex, either,” Eva said gloomily. “It’s reaching crisis point. There are days when I feel like grabbing the first man I see in the morning and saying ‘do me, now.’”

Paige winced. “Promise me you will never say that.”

“It’s all right for you—you’re having hot sex in every conceivable position.” Eva’s hand hovered over the bread basket. “And it doesn’t help that we have to look at your beaming, satisfied smile every day. It’s time for drastic action.”