Page 35 of Taming the Beast (Fairy Tales of New York)

What the hell? His hands balled into fists although what he was going to do with those he had no idea.

Silence, while she listened for a moment, then, “Well, how about this for an idea? I have a friend who has a pub here in New York… No, it’s in Brooklyn but it’s great, just your sort of place. Faith’ll take your lagers. I’m sure she will. She’ll hear your pitch, at least. Want me to put you in touch?… OK, I won’t mention it just yet. You let me know when it suits.”

Seb felt the tension gripping every muscle he possessed ease a little. OK. So. Business. But still. At a quarter past four in the morning?

Mercy stopped. Nodded. “Will do,” she murmured and laughed once more before hanging up.

She’d never laughed like that with him. Not that he’d noticed. And not that he gave a damn who this wicked, beer-flogging Raf who made her laugh was.

“Who was that?”

Shit.

Giving a little shriek, Mercy whirled round, clutching at the robe, her eyes wide. “What the –? Jesus, Seb, you scared me half to death.”

“My apologies.”

“That was just an old friend.”

How old, he wanted to know. And an old friend? Or old friend? “An old friend with insomnia?”

“Raf lives in Australia. Sydney. It’s this evening there. Summer. And hot, apparently.” She stashed her cell in the pocket of her robe and looked at him closely. “Are you all right? You look a little, I don’t know, unhinged. And you’ve been acting all weird ever since I got here.”

No, he wasn’t all right. And he wouldn’t be until she was back upstairs and in his bed.

“What are you doing down here?” he growled, eyeing her warily because she was dangerously close to the door to the basement and she was not going down there.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you decided to go walkabout?” And what, now he was Australian?

“Yes. That a problem?”

“You should have asked.”

She rose her eyebrows. “Why? Would you have offered me a tour?”

No. Their arrangement didn’t include tours. “Would you have wanted one?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been in this house maybe half a dozen times and I’ve seen, what, a third of it? I’m curious. Zel told me once that it was built by a champagne magnate. I figure it must have the most beautifully designed cellar.”

Yes, well, it did, but there was no way in hell she was going to find that out. “Where else have you been?”

“Everywhere.”

“Outside?”

“I did take a quick look at your roof terrace if that’s what you’re asking.” It was. And he didn’t like it. That space was private. “I had no idea it was there,” she added. “It’s beautiful. Peaceful. Especially in the moonlight. If kind of chilly. Roses?”

“Yes.”

“All yours?”

He nodded. “All mine.”

---