Page 66 of When Glitter Meets Gold

“Is that where you store the bodies?” A terrible attempt at humor. I should leave before it gets worse.

“Approximately sixty thousand of them actually.” He grins.

A weak laugh slips from my throat as I ponder thespecific number. Perhaps his humor’s as terrible as mine. “What?”

“Bees.”

“What?” The joking vanishes as I choke out the word.

“I have a couple hives.” He points to the stairs. “The power went out in the building this morning and their water supply and heat was cut off. I had to tend to them.”

I nod, aware my face must be displaying nothing but fear and repulsion.

His grin widens. The dimple in his cheek deepens. “So, you don’t want to come help me with the critters?”

“Oh, I can’t come up there.” I shake my head violently. “I thought you said it was under control?”

“It is. I just have one more adjustment to make,” he says like he’s unsure. “I can grab the papers first? I don’t want to keep you waiting.” Another option to leave.

“No,” It comes out fast. Because even though I’m nervous to be standing inside Jack’s home, I can see he’s working hard to make me feel relaxed.Just a little longer,I tell myself. “I don’t mind staying down here and snooping around instead.” I shrug. “Go tend to your bees.”

He chuckles. “Why don’t you comemostof the way? Four floors to snoop before we reach the top.”

Four?And a roof terrace. How the other half lives. Although I’m sure not even half of New Yorkers have over two floors. Sleeping in a different room than your refrigerator is usually considered the height of prosperity by the city’s standards.

As we climb to the first floor, I force my eyes to inspect the slim-framed images of the Rocky Mountains and the Sahara, so that if he should turn around, he won’t catch me gawking at his butt.Gawkingsince I recall exactly what each butt cheek looks like, their perfect shape ingrained in thesteely corners of my mind since the tent incident a few weeks ago.

“I didn’t realize bees needed heat,” I remark as we pass an enormous floor-to-ceiling bookcase with multicolored spines at the top of the first-floor staircase.

“They need a little help now it’s colder,” he declares somewhat proudly. “I’ve got all sorts of gadgets to make sure they’re comfortable.”

He’s silent for a moment, turning his head a few inches but not quite looking at me, perhaps wondering if he’s overshared.

And then I realize what’s happening. He’s showing meJack.The one beneath the suit, the fancy car, and the company that rules the city. He’s showing me who he is when he’s not being J Vandenberg. Showing me around his home, trusting me to work with his company.

I just don’t know who I can trust.My mind races back to the alley as I hear his voice play over. That warm feeling is back, growing and expanding inside me every moment. Suddenly, the only thing I want right now, is for him to continue to trust me.

“So, this is your hobby?” I ask with fresh enthusiasm.

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards and his features soften. “Kind of. The hives were here when I bought the place. The old lady wouldn’t sell me the building unless I was prepared to take care of them. I guess I was intrigued, and now…”

“Now you’re leaving the office early to make sure they’re not cold.” I smile.

There’s something magical about watching a person talk about their passion. I never cared how boring someone’s hobby sounded, because I was too busy watching their eyes light up while they spoke about something they loved. I cantell Jack cares about these damn bees, and for the first time in forever, it makes me hate them less for once.

As we climb to the lounge area on the second floor, I begin to truly appreciate how spacious this place is. Suddenly I’m Carrie Bradshaw walking into her new apartment while Big exclaims,Oh, so this is where they keep the light.

Then I’m biting my bottom lip. Did I just imagine myself living here? In Jack’s home?

I shake my head. It’s a damn brownstone, of course I did.

“Don’t you have someone to help you do things like adjust a thermostat?” I ask, eyeing every corner like I’m seeing color for the first time. Surely a multitude of staff exists in a home this large.

“Sometimes, but I tend to take care of this kind of stuff myself.”Beestuff. Then he glances behind him at the very moment I choose to take my eyes from the artwork and bookcases. He catches me. Staring at his ass. I dip my gaze to my feet, not daring to look at his reaction; however, a nearly inaudible chuckle paints somewhat of a conclusive image.

After I catch him smirking for the hundredth time, the urge to trip him becomes less of an intrusive thought and more something that might actually happen.

“Okay, what’s so funny?” He can’t still be smiling because I was being a peeping tom, surely.

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