Love on Lexington Avenue(31)

He’d planned to fix up the pampered widow’s home and move on. But then he’d met Claire, and he was intrigued. Intrigued about what sort of man could fool a woman who seemed as smart and savvy as they came. Same went for Naomi—she was nobody’s fool.

“I don’t know,” Oliver said with a sigh. “Naomi gets sort of death to men whenever his name comes up, so I don’t go there. Best I can tell, he was one hell of a con artist, only his aim was sex with as many women as possible, not money.”

Scott looked down at his thumbnail, thinking about Meredith for the second time in an hour, which was more than he thought about her most months these days. Finding out about her and Jonathan had made him feel the fool, too, but at least he’d been prepared on some level. The two had always been flirtatious, and he’d asked her point-blank if something was going on. She’d sworn up and down that it was just work camaraderie. He’d been dumb enough to believe her, but at least he’d suspected. He couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to be truly blindsided.

No wonder Claire didn’t want to get remarried.

“Another drink?” Oliver asked, standing.

Scott held his empty glass over his head as Oliver walked around the back of the couch and took it on his way to the kitchen.

“More bacon, too,” Scott said.

The game came back on, and Scott had just started to let himself get distracted when Oliver spoke up again. “You and Claire getting along?”

There was concern in Oliver’s voice, and Scott looked over at his friend, trying to read him. “Sure. Yeah. She’s great.”

Oliver studied him for a moment, then went back to measuring the vodka. “’Kay.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that about?”

Oliver put two slices of bacon into each glass. Then added one more as he looked back at Scott. “I meant it when I said she didn’t want a relationship.”

“I know.”

“I think she could get hurt easily.”

Scott felt something unpleasant curl in his stomach, because he knew what his friend was implying. Claire seemed somehow unfailingly strong and yet alarmingly fragile beneath it all.

“Ollie,” Scott said, deliberately using his friend’s hated nickname in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Are you warning me to stay away from her?”

Oliver brought both glasses into the living room, handed one to Scott. “I’m just saying, you seem intrigued, and I get it. There’s something inherently compelling about Claire. But I care about her. Naomi really cares about her. And you know you can be . . .”

Scott lifted his eyebrows in question. “Dying to hear this.”

“You’re transient,” Oliver said. “You’re one of my closest friends, but I never know when I’m going to see you next or what city you’ll be in two months from now. I don’t know that you know.”

“I don’t,” Scott snapped. “I like it that way.”

“I get that and it’s fine,” Oliver said. “But as much as I hope Claire enjoys life as a single woman, I’d hate for her to get used to you being around.”

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I’m just her contractor for a few more weeks,” Scott said.

“Yeah,” Oliver said, watching him closely. “Good thing.”





Chapter Ten


MONDAY, AUGUST 12

Claire was adding her creamer to a fresh cup of coffee when there was an insistent pounding on her door, more of a thunk than an actual knock. Carrying her mug to the front of the house, she opened the door to a hyper Bob and Scott carrying an enormous box.

“Sorry.” He stepped into the foyer. “Hands were full.”

“What the heck is that?” She followed him down the hall toward the kitchen.

“AC unit.”

“I’ve already got an AC unit. I’ve got two AC units.”

“You want me to renovate your kitchen in the middle of August, we’re putting another one in here as well,” he said, setting it on the floor in the corner and then helping himself to a cup of coffee. She’d taken to making an extra-large pot since he’d been around.

“Don’t worry,” he snapped, even though she hadn’t said a word. “Cost is on me.”

She looked at the dog. “Bobsie, you’re supposed to warn me when your dad wakes up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“She’s my dog. And her name is Bob.”

“So, this is fun,” she said, waving a hand in his general direction. “Are you pissed at me specifically, or just life in general?”

He gave her an irritated look, lifting his backward cap off his head and running a hand through his hair before tugging the cap back on again. “I may have had one too many Bloody Marys yesterday. I usually stick to beer.”

“And pink wine,” she said, hoping for a smile, or at least a good-natured eye-roll. She didn’t get either. But since nobody was at their best after too much vodka, she decided to give him a break.

“You’re starting the kitchen today?” she asked.

He bobbed his head. “Yeah. I wanted to hold off, since it’ll be the biggest inconvenience to your routine. But it’s also the biggest undertaking, so I really can’t afford to wait any longer, or I won’t be able to finish it before my next project.”