He laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, it’s not quite that sim—”
“Sure it’s that simple.” She jammed her hands on her narrow hips. “I told my husband no for six months. Did he give up? Did he sit in his office doing the big boohoo? No. He kept coming over and he kept asking.”
“Look, I’m not inter—”
“Look how Eva got you!” Jean gestured contemptuously at him. “She just kept coming over. Did you want to see her? No! Did you think she was a pain in the ass? Maybe a little. But then you fell in love with her. I helped her because I looked at her and I said, that girl is in love with Ames the way my Manny was with me. He still is, in fact, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.” He rubbed his forehead irritably, wanting to talk about Eva about as much as he didn’t want to. “If she was in love with me, she wouldn’t be running back to California as fast as possible.”
“Says you. You know nothing.” Jean marched up to the edge of his desk and shook her finger at him. “You wouldn’t know love if it was a herring that slapped you across the face.”
He stared incredulously. “A what?”
“You ever been slapped in the face with a herring, Ames? Well, I have. And I’m telling you—” She broke into a giggle and fanned at her face. “Okay, okay, I lied about the herring.”
“What the—” He chuckled unwillingly. “Jean, for God’s sake.”
“What can I say? I got carried away. Get over it.”
“Is this going to take much longer?” He pointed to a pile of folders on his desk. Untouched since an hour ago when he sat down after lunch. “I have work to do.”
“Of course you do. You gotta get yourself out from behind this desk and go after her. Every day. And if she goes back to California, you pick up, you sublet this place, rent an apartment near her, and show up. Every day. If you have to sell wine to stay alive, sell California wine. They got plenty out there.”
He stared at her. Blinked. Stared some more. Why the hell didn’t he think of that?
Because he was strictly an in-the-box thinker, a nonspontaneous non–risk taker, which was why Eva had intrigued and irritated and enchanted him so much from the first day her met her. Because part of him undoubtedly wanted to be her.
His mind started spinning slowly, then faster and faster until his thoughts were as chaotic as his emotions.
When was the last time he’d taken a vacation? He must have a few weeks coming anyway. He could try out California. There was no shortage of wine in the state. He had fantastic contacts here and abroad, good experience...
The thoughts stalled. What the hell? This was crazy thinking. He wasn’t the type to pick up and move on a whim. Away from friends? Away from family? Away from New York?
The apartment phone rang.
“I got it.” Jean went to answer.
Ames stayed at his desk, tempted to lock his office door so she couldn’t get back in and lecture him more on what a loser he was, except that would be a total loser thing to do.
Going after Eva every day was a lovely concept for a movie, but it was dangerously close to stalker behavior. No meant no, and if she didn’t want to stay for him now, dangling himself in front of her, pleading, wasn’t likely to change her mind. He’d groveled plenty already and she’d given him a firm, well-thought-out answer.
Subject closed.
“Uh. Ames?” Jean was at the door, phone in hand, looking incredulous. “I keep telling Frank there’s some mistake, but he won’t budge.”
His heart launched into triple time. Had Eva shown up? Changed her mind? “What is it?”
“He says your gorilla is here.”
Aw, jeez. Sure, go ahead—kick a man while he’s down. Ames had ordered the statue two weeks ago, along with a miniature putting green to put in the corner of his living room that Eva said needed brightening with exactly those two things. There had been a delay in the order, then in all the mess, he’d forgotten about it.
What the hell had he been thinking? What was he going to do with a—
He was suddenly was able to hear himself. No, he wasn’t going to go after her, no, he wasn’t going to move to California, no, he wasn’t going to take a vacation, no, he could no longer handle a life-size gorilla, no, no, no...