Page 8 of When I Found You

“Arthur.” Her business tone shifts to one of amusement. “Happy New Year.”

I grunt and ignore the stabbing irritation in my skull. “You busy?”

“Just reorganizing my closets with Anita and Jess.” She snaps the gum she’s chewing. “Why?”

Taking a deep breath, I push forward. “I need a favor.”

“Holy shit. Did hell freeze over? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

“Laugh it up.” I growl knowing I’ll never live this down.

She sobers quickly. “What can I do for you? Get you a new wardrobe? A blind date? Maybe find you a sense of humor?”

“I need you to make up a bag. Toiletries, makeup, and clothes.” I brace myself for the deluge of questions I’m about to face and march into the gaping maw of hell. “For a woman.”

“Get the hell out of here.” She gasps. “Did you snag yourself a babe?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.” I sigh. “Can you do this for me?”

“Under two conditions.” She snaps her gum again.

“Name them.” I stare at my reflection in the window wondering if I haven’t signed a contract with the devil.

“Nonna’s blanket.” She tuts when I groan. “And the recipe for her chicken noodle soup.” Marcy knows exactly what she wants, which is why she’s the most sought-after stylist in the city.

“Fine.” I sit on the arm of the couch and carefully twist the cord so I don’t knock the whole thing to the ground. “How fast can you be here?”

“As soon as you give me her measurements, I can be there in thirty.”

My head spins. Measurements? What the hell? “I don’t know her measurements, Marcy.”

“Ask her, idiot.” She tuts again in exasperation.

“Hold on.” I set the phone down and head toward the bedroom. Inside, I find my uninvited guest staring at the ceiling chewing on her lip.

“Everything okay?” she asks when I open the door.

“Of course.” I bristle. No, it goddamn isn’t okay. You’ve upended my plans and you’re lying in my bed. I bite my tongue and ignore the frustration curdling in the back of my throat. “What are your measurements?”

Her eyes widen and she sits up enough to meet my gaze fully. “Why do you need those?”

“You can’t wear the same clothes for days on end and I doubt you’ll fit in mine.”

“I wear a large top and a size fourteen jeans.” She brushes her hair away from her eyes.

“Shoes?” I add taking mental note and trying not to imagine those curves I now know she’s hiding beneath her baggy sweater.

“Eights.”

I nod and leave the room, closing the door behind me. Shit. This can’t be good. It’s bad enough I don’t know anything about this woman and here she is tormenting me without even trying.

I snatch the phone off the table. “Large top, size fourteen jeans, and size eight shoe. That work?”

“I can make it work for now.” She sounds almost disappointed in my clipped response. “I’ll be over in thirty minutes. Ciao.”

After I hang up the phone, I stare blankly at the new television and state of the art stereo system sitting like huge bricks stacked against the wall. I don’t know why I bought them. I never watch television or listen to music. The architecture firm takes up all of my time. My gaze drifts to the bedroom. At least it did.

If I had known what was waiting for me on the other side of the door at the office this morning, I wouldn’t have gone in. A fleeting memory of Kate’s soft body pressed against me makes me pause. I remember the sweet, teasing scent of a tropical island drifting up from her hair and pulling me closer. Guilt crashes over me again when I remember the sight of her crumpled on the floor, blood marring her pale forehead.

---