Page 15 of The Law of Attraction

I cross my arms and lean back on the bench. ‘You might be the one to make a sweet man out of me yet.’

She bites her bottom lip, and I realize she’s probably uncomfortable under my ogling.

I have to do something to take the heat out of the air between us before I forget why I’m here. To be polite. Friendly. Human.

‘So, besides ticks, what have you seen of New York?’

She exhales, probably as happy to escape the intensity that was just between us as I am. ‘Between my shifts here and sleeping, not much.’ She moves around the kitchen, taking cakes from the ovens and lining the various shapes, colors and sizes along the work benches. ‘I’m actually on vacation next week, so I’m going to make a start. I have a list of things I want to do. I’m going to go up the Empire State Building. Take the subway to see Yankee Stadium, maybe do a tour or something because I don’t actually know the rules of baseball. Mm, ride the ferry to Staten Island and take pictures of Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty as I pass by. Walk South Shore Boardwalk.’

She continues to talk and, sensing I’ve been relieved of cake-baking duties, I continue to listen to her from my stool. I could listen to her all night. That accent is actually kind of sweet, not at all irritating. Her voice is soft and gentle, but animated. Not for the first time this morning, I’m feeling like someone just wrapped me up in a thick blanket.

Suddenly, my lack of sleep is taking its toll. I rest an elbow on the worktop and lean my chin against my hand. Those dimples are back, and she’s waving her wooden spoon in the air as she talks about a cute Italian restaurant she’s heard of by Central Park. Apparently, it does the best pizzas in the city. When my eyes close, I still see her, like bright light that still shines through your eyelids when they’re shut. As I drift into a calmness I haven’t felt since… I don’t remember… I take her with me. The sound of her voice. The curve of her lips. Her button nose. That sweet giggle.

* * *

‘Drew.’ Her whisper floats into my ears like a song. I feel her fingertips against my temple. Then I smell cake. Moaning, I reach out my arm to wrap it around her. Instead of a beautiful woman and a soft mattress, my hand finds a stainless-steel work surface.

My eyes dart open, and I sit up quickly, glancing around Edmond’s kitchen. ‘Shit.’

Becky is no longer in her white chef uniform; she’s in jeans and a T-shirt and she’s biting her lip to stop herself from laughing.

‘You fell asleep, Mr Big Shot.’

I scowl, despite being more embarrassed than angry, and stand. As I do, I find we’re no longer alone in the kitchen. Ah, Jesus.

‘Good morning, sunshine,’ Edmond shouts across the space. I’ll never hear the end of this with the guys.

Four other chefs are doing some kind of prep and clearly all fighting to hide their own amusement.

Well, there’s nothing else for it. I stand and take a bow. ‘Thanks for the service, guys.’

I pick up my suit jacket and coat, putting them on as I leave the kitchen. Becky follows me through the restaurant and pats my back, 100 per cent patronizingly. ‘Come on, tough guy, I’ll treat you to a breakfast bagel.’

I turn to face her and raise a finger in front of her nose. ‘You.’

‘Me what?’ she says through a giggle.

I lose all my conviction and end up shaking my head, my smirk betraying my attempt to be angry. ‘You shouldn’t have let me sleep. And you shouldn’t have put me in a sugar coma.’

‘Oh, come on, even the best lawyer on the circuit needs a nap.’

I find myself wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to my side without conscious thought. ‘You can buy me a bagel for that.’

* * *

Once we’re served, we stand to the side of Fabio’s truck, eating our bagels and sipping coffee. ‘Were you born here?’ she asks.

I nod as I chew. ‘Staten Island.’

‘Do you have family?’

‘My parents are around. They still live on the island. I have a much younger brother, and a sister who’s a couple years younger than me. She can pretty much get anything she wants out of me.’

‘That’s what big brothers are supposed to be for, right?’

There’s something almost wistful about the way she says it that has me wondering whether she has a brother she misses.

‘Do you have a brother?’

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