“It’s nothing,” she said.
Maybe, but her skin was broken and he had no idea what was in that water. “We need to clean that cut and ice your elbow. And I want to pay for your clothes to be cleaned or replaced—”
“Wuff!”
He shot the impatient Daisy a long look that promised no cookies today just as Elle came out of the elevator into the courtyard, striding toward them with a concerned look on her face. “Hi,” she said to Colbie. “I’m Elle Wheaten, the building manager. What happened? Are you okay?”
“She took a header into the water,” Spence said. “Daisy’s fault.”
They all looked at Daisy, who was sitting there smiling wide, not a concern in this world.
“I’m taking Colbie upstairs,” he said. “To clean out her cut and get her some dry clothes.”
Elle turned to him in shock.
Spence understood the surprise. He usually avoided dealing with people, especially people he didn’t know. And then there was the fact that his penthouse apartment was an inner sanctum that he didn’t let just anyone into. “The gym,” he clarified, which was on the top floor next to his apartment. It had its own entrance, separate from his living quarters and office.
“I’ll take her,” Elle offered, doing as she always did, which was keeping herself between Spence and the rest of the world.
“Really,” Colbie said, her voice firm if not a little shaky. “Not necessary. I’m fine.”
Spence didn’t claim to know all that much about women, but even he knew that fine didn’t mean fine. The scale went great, good, okay, not okay, I hate you, fine. And as a bonus, she was beginning to tremble from the cold as she gripped her suitcase and tried to walk off—not that her dress was having it.
Colbie stopped fighting it, sighed, and tilted her head back. “Really? Are we serious with today?”
Both Spence and Elle glanced up at the sky. Nothing but clouds. He looked over at Elle, who was brows up, giving him a slow shake of her head. And while it was true that Elle was one of his best friends and he trusted her with his life, he didn’t agree with her silent opinion to just let the woman go.
He couldn’t. There was just something about the very wet, cute-yet-sexy Colbie No-Last-Name that appealed to him in a way that nothing else had in a long time. So when she tripped over her dress yet again and swore with a low, muttered “Son of a beach!” he grabbed for her, keeping her upright.
“Please,” he said as her clothes began to soak his. “Please let me help you.”
At his other side, Elle’s mouth fell open. She wasn’t used to hearing the word please from him. Ignoring her, he kept his gaze on Colbie.
Wary, she rolled her eyes, but gave a slight nod. She’d let him help her out but she wasn’t happy about it.
Fair enough.
Chapter 2
#H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks
Colbie kept a grip of Spence’s forearms and it wasn’t because she hadn’t touched a man in so long she’d forgotten how much she’d missed the tactile feel of hard, sinewy muscle beneath her fingers. Nope, she kept a grip on him because her damn dress was holding her prisoner, making it nearly impossible to move with an ounce of grace.
As if she had any ounces of grace even on good days, of which this wasn’t one. In fact, it was a rough day. She’d even venture to say it’d been a rough year, but that wasn’t strictly true. The fact that she could suddenly pay her bills without using credit cards and racking up more on her mounting debt had truly changed her life in that she no longer was constantly stressed about money. But as hard as it was for her to believe, money hadn’t solved all her problems.
Later. She’d obsess later. For now she stared up at the man who was tall, leanly muscled, and sturdy as a tree, or so it seemed, given that he was holding the both of them upright.
His hair was every shade of brown under the sun, on the wrong side of needing a cut, and seemed to have a mind of its own. His eyes behind the glasses were a warm whiskey brown, eyes that were somehow amused and kind and enigmatic all at the same time. Fascinating, she thought, and fought the urge to find a pen from in her purse and make a note. But if she could have done so without looking silly, she’d totally have done it and written tall, dark, and yummy stranger with an overly exuberant dog the size of a VW Bug.
Said dog was panting with happiness at Spence, who shook his head at her as he picked up her leash. “Next time, it’s the glue factory for you.”
The dog’s expression went sheepish and contrite, and Colbie felt her amusement fade. She knew from raising siblings with their far too many pets to count that the bad behavior never came from the animals but their owners. She tried very hard not to let her admittedly crazy personal life dictate her feelings but she had a thing, a big thing, against people who didn’t take responsibility for their actions. Like her father. Nothing had ever been his fault either. He’d always been the victim.
“Don’t you worry,” she told Daisy. “It wasn’t your fault.” Then she hiked her wet dress up to her thighs and again tried to walk away.
“I’d really feel better if you let us help you,” the woman named Elle said to her back.
She was probably worried that Colbie was a lawsuit walking. Elle herself was dressed to rule the world in a badass, gorgeous black and white suit dress with heels to die for. She’d said she was the building’s manager, and given the easy affection between her and Spence, and the shorthand way they had of communicating, there was at least some sort of relationship between them. Maybe they were a couple and Elle was feeling threatened.
Except . . . no one looking at Colbie now or even before she’d gone for a swim would consider her a threat standing next to Elle.
Maybe . . . maybe Spence was a serial killer and Elle was worried that she’d have yet another body to dispose of. Okay, yeah, so now she was letting her inner writer take over. But at least she still had an inner writer somewhere deep, deep, deep down . . .
Still, serial killer or no, she needed to let someone from home know where she was, and that’s when it hit her. Her phone. With sudden panic, she fished through the pockets of her drenched denim jacket and . . . yep . . . pulled out her equally drenched cell phone, still turned off from her flight. She went to turn it on but Spence put his hand over hers. “Wait. Let me dry it out for you first or you’ll fry it.”
Thinking of all the information in it, information that linked her to her pen name and a huge career she still hadn’t gotten comfortable with—so much that she’d literally run away from it—she hugged the phone to her chest. “I’ve got it.”
Spence and Elle glanced at each other again with unspoken questions that Colbie didn’t intend to answer. She thought of the e-mails she’d left, none telling anyone exactly where she was, just that she needed to be alone and unplugged for a few weeks.
Getting out of New York had been huge for her, and nothing short of miraculous. For five straight years she’d worked twelve to fourteen hours a day without a single break—longer if on deadline—trying to keep everyone in her life happy and taken care of. She’d begun to dream about her prepublished days when she’d been a writer by night, an eager waitress by day, soaking up everything around her like a sponge, shamelessly eavesdropping on customers, studying people, making up stories about them in her head.
She’d lost that joy and in doing so lost her ability to write at all. If she wanted to save her burgeoning career, she needed this break, needed the time away to refill her well or she’d be back to waitressing. There was nothing wrong with that but she was hoping instead to find her love of writing.
Then she’d go home in time for Christmas, at which point she’d plaster a smile on her face and get on with the insanity of her life.
“Here. You’re cold.” Spence handed Daisy’s leash to Elle and shrugged out of his own jacket and wrapped it around Colbie’s shoulders, careful not to actually touch her as his fingers drew it closed in front of her. It was blessedly warm from his body heat and she had to fight not to inhale his scent, which was some glorious guy smell.
Now that the shock of the trip and her unexpected dip into the fountain was wearing off, she realized Spence was right—she was seriously cold. Trembling with it, including chattering teeth.