All It Takes (Romancing Manhattan 2)

I sigh, shrug a shoulder, and wrestle my way out of the jacket, then kick my two-inch shoes off for good measure and wiggle my toes.

Okay, he was right. I do feel better.

“See?”

“I’ll bring a fan tomorrow.”

“Is anyone living here?” he asks.

“No.”

“Why don’t I just carry the boxes downstairs, a few at a time, and we can work at the table where it’s cooler and more comfortable.”

“They’re heavy.”

His brown eyes stay on mine, not flinching, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, muscleman, if you want to carry the heavy boxes, who am I to stop you? It will be more comfortable, and I’ll be closer to the coffeepot and fridge when I’m here all by myself and need fuel.”

“You’ll be here alone?”

He’s scowling.

“Of course. You’ll be working during the day on the weekends, and I still have to find my proof. It’s no big deal. I’ve been home alone before. You know, because I’m a grown-up.”

He rolls his eyes and closes the lid on his finished box, then moves it to the other side of the room under a paper I taped to the wall that says FINISHED.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I need to make a quick call.”

“Of course.”

I also put the lid on my box, a bit disappointed that I didn’t find what I needed right away, and reach for another.

“Hi, Mom. I just wanted to check in. I don’t think I’m going to make it over tonight.” He pauses, listening, a smile hovering over his lips. “Yes, you’re on a Quinn vacation tonight. You’re funny. Are you feeling okay? Good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night.”

“If you need to go to your mom’s, you don’t have to stay—”

“I don’t,” he replies, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

“Are you a mama’s boy?” My voice is taunting, playful. Quinn chuckles, shakes his head, and takes my finished box to join his.

“No. I do love my mom, though, and my family would say that I’m overprotective. My sister and dad both died in the same year about five years ago, and ever since then I keep a close eye on Mom.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, watching his jaw tighten as he reaches for another box.

“So I understand being close to your family. I enjoy being around mine.”

“Do you live close to them?”

“To Finn, yes. He’s my older brother, and he and I both have condos in Manhattan, not far from the office.”

Sweat breaks out on my upper lip. Condos in Manhattan are not cheap.

“Mom and Carter live in Queens.”

“Who’s Carter?”

“He’s my brother-in-law. He was married to my sister, and he’s the third partner in our firm.”

“Any other siblings?” I ask.

“Nope, it’s just the three of us. Carter and Darcy have a daughter, Gabby, who’s twelve and a handful.”

“Twelve is the new twenty-five,” I agree with a laugh. “It’s great that you work with your brothers.”

“We trust one another, and we get along well, so it works for us. Sometimes we get on each other’s nerves, but that’s family for you.”

“Absolutely.”

“What about you?”

“I have a sister.”

“No, I mean, tell me about why you’re a city attorney, and not working with a private firm. You have to know that you could be making much more money.”

“I know, but that’s not why I do this, you know?”

He just shakes his head, and I shrug a shoulder. “I’m not a martyr. Of course I work for the money. If I didn’t need money, I’d retire and go live on a beach somewhere. But I also don’t want to be married to the work.

“You admitted to me that you work seven days a week. I don’t want that, Quinn. I work Monday through Friday, eight to five. There are a few days here and there that I stay a little late, if I’m preparing for court, but for the most part, it’s forty hours a week. I don’t have to count billable hours, accounting for every fifteen minutes of my day. I’m on a decent salary. And in exchange, I can have a life. I paint, I cook, I can be with my family. I honestly don’t know how or why you want to work so hard.”

“It’s the thrill,” he admits. “I fucking love a courtroom. I will always be a litigator because it makes my heart beat.”

“Then we’re both doing what we want to do,” I reply with a smile. “I’m not a workaholic, and I’m okay with that. It doesn’t mean that my work ethic isn’t stellar. I work my ass off. But I like having a life outside of it. I need it.”

“I can see that from your artwork. You’re incredibly talented.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you ever sold any?”

“Yes.”

This seems to surprise him, and I smile as I put the lid on another box that didn’t give me any answers.

“I’ve even had exhibits in some smaller galleries. I can’t keep it all, and my family only has so much wall space.”