Passion on Park Avenue (Central Park Pact #1)(44)

“What?” She forced her eyes back to his blue ones.

“You said you used to like King. What happened to change your mind?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, climbing to her feet, book still in hand. “I just don’t have much time to read anymore.” She caught herself and glanced down at the book. “That’s not true. I guess I don’t make time to read anymore.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. Adulthood does that to all of us. Eats up our schedule bit by bit until we don’t even realize all of our free time’s just . . . gone,” he said, coming toward her and reaching for the book, running a finger down the spine the same way she had just moments earlier.

The absent gesture told her all she needed to know. “It’s yours.”

He smiled ruefully and set the book back on top of the others. “I, too, am a fan. And I, too, can’t seem to find a minute to start the damn thing.”

“Why is it here instead of your apartment?”

“It’s for nights when Janice is out and I stay with Dad. He usually goes to bed early, and I always intend to finally start the book.”

“What do you do instead? TV?”

“Yeah. And work, mostly.”

She nodded in understanding but said nothing.

Oliver cleared his throat. “Well. Thanks for keeping an eye on him. Normally he’s fine while I shower or dress or take a phone call, but he’s been restless and irritable all morning.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Walter groused, apparently not nearly as into his television show as he seemed.

“Sure, now you pay attention to me,” Oliver said good-naturedly to his father as he nodded for Naomi to follow him into the kitchen, out of Walter’s hearing.

“Where’s Janice?” Naomi asked.

“Her father had a heart attack yesterday. She flew out last night to Birmingham to be with him.”

“Is he okay?”

“Still critical,” Oliver said, rubbing his neck. “I told her to stay with him as long as she needs, and I’m guessing it’ll be at least a week.”

The shrill ping of the intercom on the wall near the front door interrupted him. She jumped at the sound, remembering it from childhood. It would buzz whenever someone dialed the Cunninghams’ unit number from downstairs.

“How old is that thing? A hundred?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a grimace. “It didn’t make sense for this place to get updated with the newer option to just buzz tenants’ cell phones, given my dad doesn’t have a phone, and Janice and I split our time here.”

He went to the wall and pushed the Call button. “Hello?”

The reply was every bit as staticky as Naomi remembered as the doorman’s voice crackled through. “Hi, Mr. Cunningham, I have Serena Grogan here to see you?”

“Sure, send her up,” Oliver replied, before releasing the button.

“Temp caretaker to fill in for Janice,” he said by way of explanation to Naomi.

“Oh.” She clasped her fingers loosely in front of her.

Oliver pointedly looked at his watch. “Look, Naomi. I appreciate you helping my dad out this morning. Really. But you haven’t exactly made a secret of the fact that you don’t want anything to do with me, so . . .”

She gave a half smile. “So . . . leave?”

He crossed his arms. “It’s been a trying morning. I’ve got a conference call in a half hour, I have no idea if Serena is going to go on Dad’s instant-hate list—”

“He has one of those?”

“God yes. He can’t remember much, but once he decides he doesn’t like someone, he seems to remember that just fine.”

“Really? He’s been mostly sweet to me,” she said, looking over at the docile-seeming Walter.

“Yeah, well, he likes you. Probably because he doesn’t realize the feeling’s not mutual.” Oliver opened the front door as he said it, a clear dismissal, and Naomi was surprised at the sting of regret.

Still, what could she possibly say? He was giving her exactly what she thought she wanted. He was trying to get the hell out of her life, so why was she still standing here? Naomi managed a stiff nod, then walked past him out into the hallway. She turned back.

“I could help.”

Oliver gave her a look. “What?”

“I could help with Walter. I’m still without an office for a couple weeks, so I’m working from home. My schedule’s flexible, so if you need someone to stay with him . . .”

Oliver stared at her in obvious surprise.

You and me both, Naomi thought. She had no idea what she was offering. Or why.

Hadn’t she just been telling herself that since she wasn’t going to get the apology from Walter Cunningham she’d been planning for, it was time to put the whole thing behind her?

And here she was offering to play caretaker?

“Naomi, I can’t—”

But before he finished his sentence, the elevator beeped, and a petite blond woman stepped out into the hallway.

She gave a pleasant smile when she saw Oliver and Naomi. “Is this the Cunningham residence?”

Naomi forced a smile back and made a gesturing motion toward the open door.