Passion on Park Avenue (Central Park Pact #1)(35)

And yet somehow, she still let out a gasp of shock when she stepped off the elevator into the private entryway of Audrey’s apartment, complete with gold damask wallpaper and an enormous chandelier.

This is where her friend lived? To say it was a far cry from the string of one-room apartments and motel rooms Naomi had grown up in was an understatement. Naomi shook her head in disbelief that this was her life now. That she was friends with people who lived like this.

Dylan Day seemed equally impressed by his surroundings. He was openly gawking as Naomi rang the discreet doorbell beside the front door. Audrey greeted them in a black halter dress, strappy sandals, and a wide, welcoming smile.

“You came!”

“Of course we did,” Naomi said with a laugh. “Though you might have mentioned that you live in a high-rise palace.”

“I know, right? Family money, lots of it. My parents bought this apartment, then decided to move to Hollywood to be near my sister and her producer boyfriend a month later. They gave the place to me, and if I had any sort of pride, I’d have said no, but—”

“If you had any sort of brains, you’d say yes,” Naomi finished for her. “Audrey, you remember Dylan?”

“Sure, of course, we met that day in your office,” Audrey said. Her tone was welcoming, but Naomi caught the way her friend’s smile turned just a little bit fake when she turned it toward Dylan.

“Thanks for having me,” he said politely as Audrey motioned for them to hand over both their coats.

“Of course,” Audrey said brightly. “Manhattan social groups can get so small so fast, I’m always trying to bring new people into the fold.”

Dylan laughed. “Well then, I’m glad you thought of me.”

Naomi looked away, not wanting to tell him that he’d been the second man she’d thought of, and only because they’d already committed to plans on Friday. She didn’t want to admit even to herself that the first person she’d thought of had been her stuffy, unexpectedly charming neighbor.

“Dylan, the kitchen’s right through there. Help yourself to a drink. Can I steal Naomi here for a second? Girl talk.”

“Sure thing,” he said, heading in the direction she’d indicated.

Audrey waited until Dylan was out of earshot before turning an accusing look on Naomi.

“Him?”

“Don’t start,” Naomi said, lifting her finger. “You said bring a date. He’s a date.”

“He’s a guy trying to get in your pants so you’ll agree to do his TV show.”

“Which wouldn’t be the end of the world,” Naomi pointed out. “The TV show’s a great opportunity, and as far as him getting in my pants, let’s just say I have needs that haven’t been taken care of in . . . a while.”

“No pickles in your sandwich since Brayden?” Audrey asked.

“Nope. You?”

“Not even close, but to be honest I haven’t really thought about it. Having my boyfriend of over a year die messed with my heart. Knowing he was married messed with my head. Sex has been the last thing on my mind lately.”

“Huh.” Naomi couldn’t say the same. In the past few days alone it had been on her mind more than she cared to admit. For reasons she was worried had nothing to do with Dylan Day.

“Okay, well, if you like him . . .”

“Like who?”

Audrey rolled her eyes. “Dylan? Your date?”

Right. Right.

“Okay, so can I have a glass of wine, or . . . ?”

Audrey gestured toward the sound of voices, and Naomi had taken only a few steps when she skidded to a halt at a familiar masculine chuckle. What the . . . ?

Wordlessly, Naomi grabbed Audrey’s hand and pulled her friend none too gently through a door to their right, which turned out to be a powder room.

“Seriously?” Naomi hissed, shutting the door. “You invited Oliver?”

“Not explicitly. Claire brought him as her date!”

Naomi’s head snapped back slightly at that. The thought of Claire and Oliver was . . . well, right, on an intellectual level. They both had that sort of old-world classiness to them. Claire had gone to Smith, so they both looked like the alumni section of a prep school brochure. And though she wanted desperately to think of Oliver as a real pain in the ass, she couldn’t deny that maybe, just maybe, a little sliver of him was a good guy who brought expensive champagne to new neighbors and took care of his sick father.

And as for Claire, nobody deserved a nice guy more than she did, and yet . . . and yet . . . Her brain sputtered, trying to wrangle the almost stifling jealousy. While some part of Naomi knew Oliver and Claire were perfect together, another part of her felt decidedly panicked at the thought that there could be romantic interest there.

“Is Claire interested in him?” Is he interested in her?

Audrey shrugged. “I guess so. I mean, she wasn’t like wearing his ring or anything, but if she brought him to a casual get-together, she must be carrying his baby—”

“Audrey!”

“What is the big deal? Why do you hate him so much?”

She took a deep breath. “Remember my story about my mom and the affair with her employer that ended up with her fired?”

“Of course.”