Passion on Park Avenue (Central Park Pact #1)(40)

“How often does that happen?”

He looked down at her as they walked, surprised at the question. “Why do you ask?”

Her shoulders lifted. “Just seems like it must be hard. Giving up all your nights and weekends.”

They were close to their building, and though not quite ready for the night to end, he was equally confident that she’d dart away from him the second she got close to the safety of her apartment, so Oliver slowed to a stop on the quiet sidewalk.

She stopped as well, giving him a questioning look.

Oliver shoved his hands into his pockets, matching her posture in a protective stance against the brisk fall wind.

“It’s not always easy,” he admitted. “I never pictured that my weekend nights at thirty would be spent picking up hard-boiled eggs from the floor and answering my father’s repeated questions as to whether or not his son—me—is home from soccer practice yet. But . . .”

He looked over her shoulder for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “What can you do, you know? He’s my dad.”

“Do you miss him? I mean, how he was before?”

Oliver blew out a breath at the question, and she quickly brushed aside the question. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to—”

“He was an asshole,” Oliver blurted out.

He’d gotten plenty of platitudes since Walter’s diagnosis, but even the Cunninghams’ closest friends hadn’t dared speak of the real truth.

That maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that the old Walter Cunningham was mostly lost to the world.

“He was difficult,” Oliver amended slightly. “Cold. Demanding. Selfish.”

Naomi blinked. “Wow. That’s—”

“Honest?” he said with a quick laugh.

“Unusual,” she said softly. “Most people I know idolize their parents, at least a little.”

“I used to. When I was a kid, I wanted to be him.”

“What happened?”

Oliver’s shoulders lifted and fell. “I grew up. Started to develop as my own person and realized who I wanted to be.”

And it sure as hell hadn’t been a womanizing workaholic who’d carried on more affairs than Oliver could even remember, often right under his wife’s nose.

“And yet, you’re still taking care of him,” Naomi said, a note of question in her voice.

“Yeah, well. The person I decided to be wasn’t one who’d walk away from a family member who needed him.”

“Noble.”

He smiled and stepped toward her. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Did it?” she asked, pursing her lips. “You must have heard it wrong.”

He stepped even closer, wanting to pump his fist in victory when she didn’t step back. “Why?” he asked.

“Why what?”

“Why are you so determined to remind yourself that you don’t like me?” He searched her face, struck again by the fact that it seemed familiar, though he knew he didn’t know her. Men didn’t forget women with faces like this one.

Naomi met his gaze steadily. “I have reasons. I’m working on them.”

He let out a surprised laugh at her honesty. “May I know the reasons?”

She lifted her chin and answered his question with a question. “Why did you push me through to the next round? Of the co-op board. I was rude to you, and you pushed for me to live in the building anyway. Why?”

Oliver smiled and stepped even closer, just inches separating them now. “I have reasons.” His gaze dropped to her full mouth. “I’m working on them.”

Naomi’s face tilted to his, and for a moment Oliver’s breath caught with an unfamiliar sensation. Want, yes. Desire, sure. But this moment was different. Fuller somehow, as though this woman belonged to him not just for right now, not just for a night, but for always.

She felt it, too. He knew she did, because for a moment her eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed slightly in wariness.

Don’t, he thought in frustration. Don’t turn away from this.

“He’s no good for you,” Oliver blurted out, because it was either speak his mind or kiss her, and though the latter was a hell of a lot more appealing, instinct told him this wasn’t the moment.

“Who?”

He gave her a look. She pulled to a stop and glared at him. “You don’t even know Dylan.”

“Neither do you.”

“I—”

“He spent half the evening pumping your friends for information about you. And then when he didn’t get what he wanted, he left for the airport instead of seeing you home,” Oliver pointed out.

“He has a shoot in Dallas tomorrow afternoon.”

“So he could have flown out tomorrow morning.”

“I’d never ask a man to change flight plans for me.”

You shouldn’t have to ask. Still, her admission was another piece of the puzzle. Not a corner piece, but an important one. It told him that she wasn’t accustomed to men making her a priority.

“Why’d you ask him to come with you tonight?”

Her shoulders lifted. “Audrey told me to bring a date.”

Damn it, Naomi, open your eyes. I’ve been right here.