Page 48 of The Hookup
The concierge repeated the sentence into the phone, then said, “She wants to know what it’s regarding.”
What the fuck?“Could I talk to her?” Luke demanded, holding his hand out to take the phone.
“It doesn’t sound to me as if she wants to talk to you,” the old man countered, refusing to hand the receiver over.
“She will once she sees me. What’s your name?” he demanded, so that he could report him to the maintenance manager seeing that the guy was doing his best to piss him off.
“Arnold. And your name, Sir?”
“Luke
“You must be new,” Arnold commented. He said ‘new’ like he was this season’s couture line.
“New?” Luke asked, confused. “Look,Arnold,” he said, drawing in a long breath and puffing out his chest. “I would like to talk to her,” he said, slowly. But the old man had put the receiver down. “She clearly doesn’t want to see you, Sir.”
His jaw clenched together and he walked away, then pulled out his cellphone and called her. She answered straightaway. “Don’t hang up, please,” he said, “Just hear me out.” He paused, then turned around to find the concierge giving him the beady eye from his desk. He turned his back to the man. “I was out of line last time, about dinner.”
There was silence at the other end. “I’m sorry,” he said, but still, silence. “Kay?” he barked, annoyed that he had apologized and she hadn’t even acknowledged it.
“Come up. I’ll tell Arnold to let you in.” She hung up.
He spun around to find the concierge still looking at him. He gave him his cheesiest smile. “She said I could go up.”
The old man barely moved a muscle. “It’s on the—”
“I know where it is,” he said, tightly as he walked towards the elevator. “I’ve been here before.”
The door to her apartment was ajar, and she was waiting in her living room, standing, with her arms folded, looking at if she was about to bite his head off.
“It would be easier breaking into the Federal Reserve than getting past that old man downstairs.”
“Arnold vets people carefully.”
“Does he have to vet many of them?” he asked, carefully.
She frowned. “Excuse me?”
Damn it, if he didn’t have to watch what he said. “He said I was ‘new’. What does that mean?”
“I have no idea.”
“How often do you—” He stopped, not wanting to dig a bigger hole for himself.
“How often do I what?”
“Nothing. Sorry. I didn’t come here to argue.”
“What did you come for?” she asked, her arms unfolding and her hands settling on her hips, as if she was gearing up for a fight. The blood in his veins drained south as he eyed her. Makeup sex was often better than normal sex. His mouth pressed together and he couldn’t figure out how to get from this, to the next stage.
“I was worried about you.”
“Why?”
“Because I haven’t heard from you.”
“You were worried about me?” She looked puzzled, and all he wanted to do was get this out of the way. It had been almost two months since that first time, and being here now, brought back potent memories. A throb of excitement surged through him.
“Yes, when I didn’t see you. You normally come to the bar once a week, and I haven’t seen you lately.”
