Frisk Me(40)

Ava gave a little smile as she rubbed her hands over her upper arms. “Sweet’s never really part of my job description, but luckily we journalist types tend to get a free pass.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “See, when journalists are pushy, we get labeled as tenacious. Which is a good thing. If non-journalists do the same thing, they’re merely obnoxious.”

“Oh, I dunno. I think the ‘obnoxious’ label fits just fine.”

Ava pressed her lips together and glanced down at her sandals.

It stung a little.

It shouldn’t; Luc Moretti had every reason to think that she was obnoxious.

It was just…she’d hoped—thought—maybe things were changing. The way he’d reached out his hand when she’d faltered there in the hallway at his parents’ home; it had been sweet.

And then he’d stuck close by her side all night, even sitting next to her at dinner, carefully steering his family away from topics that he could tell made her uncomfortable.

And actually, that instinct he seemed to have for sensing when Ava was nervous or uncomfortable was the weirdest part of the entire evening. The man seemed to read her better than anyone; even Beth and Mihail.

Which was why it burned a little that he still thought she was annoying. It told her that his kindness at dinner was a fluke. Just a generic, nice-guy gesture. It hadn’t been about her.

Why was she surprised? Ava had never been the kind of girl that brought out the tender side of guys.

Ava turned her head slightly so she wouldn’t have to look at him, her ponytail whipping against her cheek as she took in the beauty of the Statue of Liberty at night.

She took a deep breath, reminded herself that she didn’t need a man like Officer Moretti to validate her existence. She was smart and successful, and was well on her way to achieving career heights that other people only dreamed of…

Only that thought process didn’t feel quite right, so she focused instead on the looming Statue of Liberty as they passed it. Luc had been right when he’d said that it never got old, living in the backyard of national monuments like this one.

Hell, nothing about New York was old to Ava. And not just because of what it represented. She knew her family thought she was here because it was the very center of the broadcast journalism world, but it was more than that to Ava. This city was about self-discovery and making something of one’s self.

Ava’s parents only saw one side of New York—the one that represented fame and Park Avenue penthouses and glossy galas. But there was another side of New York too. With its honking cabdrivers and pushy pedestrians, and filthy subways and occasional rats, New York could be dirty and gritty and mean.

But at least it was honest. New Yorkers liked their dirty side. Relished it, even.

In New York, nobody pretended to be a hero.

Well, nobody except the man standing beside her.

“Why’d you do it?” she asked, turning her head to find him watching her.

“Do what?”

“Jump in the river after that little girl…give your coat to a homeless guy.”

He ran a hand over his face, and she was surprised to see that he looked…tired.

“Who’s asking?” he asked.

“Sorry?”

“Ava the reporter?” He turned to face her again. “Or Ava the human being?”

“Would you stop with that?” she snapped. “I’m tired of this hot and cold crap. You don’t get to say * things and then apologize, only to repeat the whole thing all over again. Either you’re a nice guy or a jerk. Pick one.”

Their gazes clashed for several seconds before he finally looked away.

Ava huffed out a sigh. “You know, I’m finding it increasingly hard to believe your family’s claim that you’re a regular heartthrob.”

“They exaggerate.”

“So you don’t…how did your grandmother put it…go through women faster than she goes through her hemorrhoid medicine?”

Luc gave a small smile. “No.”

“That day at the diner, you made it sound like you didn’t date much. Your family made it seem differently.”

“Why so interested, Sims?”

“Why so reluctant, Moretti?”

“Maybe I don’t want my relationship history showing up on the six o’clock news.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said with a wave. “The America’s Hero special will likely air at eight. Gotta make sure everyone’s home from work and the dishes are put away so the housewives can swoon over your handsome face.”

At some point in their conversation, he’d inched closer, and now he nudged her shoulder with his. “It is handsome, huh?”

“It’s okay,” she said grudgingly. “You’re not nearly as good looking as your brothers.”

“Considering that we grew up with people assuming that there had to be twins or triplets somewhere in the mix, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“But you’re the only one with blue eyes.”

He winked. “Noticed that, did ya?”

Crap.

“It’s just unusual for such a solidly Italian family. Or am I stereotyping?”

“Blue eyes aren’t as common as brown, but it happens. And I’m not the only one to have them. Elena’s are blue too.”