Passion on Park Avenue (Central Park Pact #1)(56)

Plus, look what had happened last time Dylan had walked her home. She’d run into Oliver and his date, and had been haunted for days.

Her phone buzzed, and Naomi rolled her eyes at the incoming text.

Audrey

Pic. Now.

Naomi

That feels a little bit like ‘what are you wearing,’ creeper.

Audrey

It’s EXACTLY that. I NEED to know your outfit.

Naomi obliged, going to the full-length mirror in the bedroom and snapping a photo she sent off to Audrey.

A moment later, her phone buzzed again.

Audrey

Had to include C on this. Couldn’t be alone in my jealousy that you can pull off those pants.

Naomi

Does it help to know I can barely breathe, and definitely can’t bend down?

Claire

It does a little. Very little.

Audrey

Still hate you. What are we talking, Pilates fanatic?

Naomi

Running nut.

Audrey

Hate you more.

Claire

A runner? Friendship officially canceled.

Naomi

Nope. Neither of you get to cancel until we ALL go through this.

Naomi bit her lip and hesitated only a moment before sending the question she really wanted to ask.

Naomi

Did I make a mistake picking Dylan?

Their replies were immediate.

Audrey

Yup.

Claire

Definitely.

She rolled her eyes, sorry she’d asked.

Naomi

Heading out. Wish me luck.

Claire

Did you have to wear Spanx to pull up those pants?

Audrey

Did you tell Oliver?

Naomi shook her head as she dropped her cell into her purse without replying.

There was no room for anything other than her tiniest thong beneath these pants, and as for telling Oliver she was going on a date? No. Just no.

With one last look at the mirror, Naomi swiped a finger across her front teeth to remove any stray lipstick smudges and stepped into the hallway.

She was just pulling her door shut when the door next to hers opened.

Oliver’s door.

No! she pleaded silently. No, no, no . . .

“Hey, neighbor.”

Damn it.

She turned toward Oliver as he stepped into the hallway, trash bag in hand.

“You wear glasses?” she blurted out.

He crossed both arms and leaned against the door as he pulled it shut, managing to look incredibly sexy even with a trash bag dangling from his right hand.

“If we’re going to be discussing appearances, Ms. Powell, yours is the one worth mentioning.”

His appraisal was slow, deliberately so, and she felt it, from the black bra he couldn’t see all the way down to the four-inch red heels that he could.

“But to answer your question,” he said when she felt too tongue-tied to reply, “yes, I wear glasses.”

“Since when?”

He gave a crooked smile. “You’ve known me for all of a month. Surely I’m allowed to have a few secrets.”

Oliver hadn’t worn glasses as a kid. She knew because she had, and he’d called her four eyes, when she wasn’t Carrots. And she’d be lying if she said that that long-ago name-calling hadn’t had a little something to do with her decision to get LASIK three years ago.

Belatedly she realized that the glasses weren’t the most important question. “Where’s Walter?”

Oliver jerked his chin in an upward direction. “His place. We had a rough day, so I asked Serena to come by and stay with him for the night. He and I both needed a break.”

Naomi nodded because she understood. Overall she hadn’t minded watching Walter, but when he was frustrating, he was really frustrating. She imagined it would be even harder for a family member to deal with the volatile ups and downs.

“Ah, gotcha,” she said, tucking her YSL clutch further into her armpit and juggling her keys lightly in her hand. “Well, have a good night.”

“Naomi,” he said as she turned away.

She sighed and turned back. “Yeah?”

Oliver pushed away from the door, slowly ambling toward her, his eyes piercing behind the lenses of his rimless glasses. No suit today, but he may as well have been wearing one. His slacks were perfectly tailored, with an immaculate seam running down the front as though they’d come straight from the tailor or dry cleaner, his white button-down starched to perfection . . .

She swallowed, only her mouth seemed to have gone dry, causing the motion to be almost painfully audible in the otherwise silent hallway.

He stopped a few paces from her. His expression never changed from easygoing, but his eyes blazed down at her. “Where are you off to?”

“Out.”

His gaze dropped to her red mouth, then back to her eyes. “Girls’ night?”

“None of your business,” she said tartly.

His jaw tensed. “So it’s a date.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but if it was a girls’ night, you would have said that.”

“Fine,” Naomi said, giving in. “I’m going on a date. Okay?”

The way his eyes narrowed slightly said not okay. But then he lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. “Cool. Have fun.”