Page 6 of Golden Touch
It’s always been an interesting space, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves made from oak and mahogany and a giant old desk. I used to hide under there as a child.
The bookshelves and the desk are still here, and since my father hates technology, the shelves are full of his old handwritten ledgers. What’s different is that a century and a half of dust and huge piles of boxes and avalanching papers have disappeared.
I barely recognize the place. The floor seems to have doubled in size, and my dad’s grand old desk is clear of debris and polished to a shine.
There’s a second desk in the room now, closer to the door. And at this desk sits the second surprise—a stunning woman. Late twenties, probably. A little thing. White chick with dark, wavy hair and olive skin.
She’s wearing an expression so defiant that I almost want to laugh. Her eyes are deep brown andfurious.
But hang on—those brown eyes are tickling my memory. I blink, and her stunning face clicks into place. I’ve stared at this girl from across a crowded room. It was a few months ago. November, actually. I’d just survived Thanksgiving weekend with my family, and I was blowing off steam at the bar with a buddy from high school.
She was sitting catty-corner to me at the other end of the U-shaped bar, and for the entire night, we flirted across the space, our exchanged glances getting hotter as the evening progressed. By closing time, I was deep in lust with her.
But then she ditched me. I went back to Boston the next day, strangely sad and missing a woman I’d never formally met.
Here she is again, even prettier than before. Chocolate eyes that know too much, wavy hair I’d fantasized about running my fingers through, and nice tits under her sweater.Reallynice. Sue me.
I clear my throat. “Well, look who it is. Honestly, I’m moreconfused now than ever. You saw me today for thesecondtime in your life… and then immediately called the cops?”
“I barely saw you at all,” she argues, her voice lower and smokier than I’d anticipated. “You were wearing a helmet and glasses—something a thief might wear—and all I saw was a biker breaking into the building.”
“You got something against bikers?”
“Certain bikers,” she says through clenched teeth. “Think of it like a special brand of PTSD.”
I snort. “So you’re Livia, huh? Nice to finally meet you.”
Emphasis on finally. I guess I’m still salty about the night she got away.
“You must be Nash,” she says in a voice you might use to say,you must be a flesh-eating bacteria.
“Oh, so now you know my name?”
She reddens slightly, but lifts her chin another few degrees, her gaze a challenge.
An incredibly sexy challenge, damn it.
She shrugs a shoulder, like the queen dismissing a servant. “I was told I’d meet youtomorrow. And there’s a picture on Lyle’s desk of your brother. I know now that he’s the hockey player. But in my head, that’s what I expected you’d look like.”
Internally, I groan. Of course, the only picture on my dad’s desk is Mitch. “So if we were identical twins, you wouldn’t have called the cops? Can we talk about your quick trigger finger on 911?”
“Look.” She crosses her arms across that gorgeous rack. “You’re not in the clink, so I don’t see why you’re all worked up about it. There’s been a lot of crime in the area.”
“Oh yeah? I’ll bet the scariest thing on last week’s police blotter was a pack of raccoons in a garbage can.”
She gives her hair a toss, revealing a creamy neck that I kind of want to bite. “You can’t blame me for protecting your father’s property. Honestly, you should be impressed.”
I snort again. “Uh-huh. Do most criminals ride up to the front door in broad daylight and let themselves in with akey?”
“Can’t be too careful.” Her spine is straight, her shoulders square, her gaze defiant. She reminds me of a house cat I once took in. The damn thing was beautiful, but so aloof. Wouldn’t come near me whenever I went looking for her. But later I figured out that she was willing to get close to me—but only when she thought I wasn’t paying attention.
It’s water under the bridge, since it turns out I’m allergic to cats. But now Livia is behaving just the same way. This woman and I had a lot of chemistry back in November. The whole fucking bar could tell.
She hit the nope button at the last minute. Fine. That’s her choice. But we’ve got ourselves an awkward mess now, don’t we?
Livia picks up a pencil. She scans the ledger in front of her, as if this conversation is over.
I’m just about to ask another question when my phone rings in my pocket. And since I need to hear from my sister more than I need to argue with Livia, I pull out my phone.
