Chapter Eleven

RACHEL TAPPED the piece of notebook paper repeatedly on the edge of the table, earning a glare from the older couple next to her. She set it down and folded her hands in her lap. Where were Ana and Melody? She’d sent out the SOS first thing this morning after a sleepless night, knowing that Ana would probably be at the gym and Melody would be finishing up her shift at her new job. The bakery had taken one look at her qualifications and hired her on the spot.

She sipped her Americano and shoved down her impatience. At last, she caught a glimpse of a tousled blonde head coming in through the front door, turning every which way to catch a glimpse of Rachel. She half stood and waved Melody her direction.

Her friend wove her way through the tables at the retro breakfast joint in Denver’s Ballpark neighborhood, revealing an off-the-shoulder eighties-style sweatshirt over a pair of leggings. When she slid into the booth, Rachel noticed there was still flour in her hair. “Sorry I’m late. Ana hasn’t arrived yet?”

“I just got a text from her. She got called into a meeting, but she’ll be over as soon as she can get free.”

Melody looked at her closely. “This isn’t a morning-after walk-of-shame breakfast, is it?”

Rachel gasped. “Of course not. You know me better than that. Last night was strictly professional.”

“Pity,” Melody said. “The professional part, I mean, not the walk-of-shame thing. I was hoping one of us had a little romance in her life. Heaven knows there isn’t a man present anywhere in mine.”

“You mean it’s hard to find a guy who puts up with your schedule? I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

Their young male server approached, his eyes lingering a little too long on Melody’s bared collarbone and shoulder. Rachel suppressed a smile. Melody’s nonexistent love life certainly wasn’t because of lack of interest. She was simply as married to her job as Rachel was. As Rachel had been.

Melody ordered a pot of decaf and then began fiddling with the paper sugar packets in front of her. “So what’s this about? Something must have happened to make you convene an emergency waffle meeting.”

“I’ll tell you as soon as Ana gets here.” On cue, Rachel glimpsed the dark head of her other best friend through the front window. Ana caught sight of them immediately and marched through the restaurant, an imposing figure in her designer business suit.

“I’ve got less than an hour,” Ana said. “I have a conference call at nine, and I lied about an off-site meeting so I could skip staff meeting.”

“It wasn’t a lie,” Melody said. “Rachel has important news.”

Ana flagged down a passing server —not theirs —and asked for an espresso, and then focused her attention on Rachel. “So it wasn’t a waste of a good dress?”

“I don’t know about that, but at least it wasn’t a waste of time. Alex says he’s in. And he thinks he has a venue for me.” Rachel paused. “He offered his place.”

Immediately, both Ana’s and Melody’s expressions shifted to alarm.

“Rachel,” Ana began.

“I know. I thought the same thing. And then I looked up the address.” She brought up the listing on her phone and swiveled it around to face them. “This is the building in Cheesman Park. Obviously not his apartment, because this one is up for sale.”

Melody blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a fifteen-story building. His apartment is on the fifteenth floor. According to his neighbor’s listing, there are four penthouse units, and each has access to a private roof deck overlooking the city.”

“How exactly does a writer afford that kind of place?” Ana asked. “That sounds suspicious.”

“Even so, it’s probably worth checking out, right? He invited me to take a look today. Said to bring you two if I was worried about his intentions.”

“I don’t like the idea of you going over there yourself, but I can barely keep my eyes open,” Melody said. “And Ana sounds booked today.”

“You were the one who set up the meeting at Rhino Crash!” Rachel exclaimed. “And now you think he’s a serial killer?”

“They never look like serial killers,” Ana said. “Haven’t you seen those crime shows? All the neighbors say what nice, normal men they were. ‘We never would have known he had bodies of women buried in his basement.’”

“You two are a lot of help. I’m going. I was hoping one of you might be able to come with me, but . . .”

Ana reached across the table for the notebook paper. “Is this the address?” She snapped a photo of it with her phone. “Let us know when you get there. If I don’t hear back from you in two hours, I’ll call the police.”

“You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” Ana grimaced. “Poor choice of words. Listen, he’s probably a nice guy. Just be careful. Go with your gut.”

That was the first good advice she had heard. Her gut rarely steered her wrong, and now it was telling her that Alex was her best shot at getting her life back. Rachel pulled out her phone and tapped out a message to him. I’d like to take a look at your venue if the offer is still open. Hopefully that didn’t sound too much like innuendo. Hopefully he really had been serious about using his place for the supper club.

Was she crazy for trusting a complete stranger, who happened to be the man who had gotten her into this situation in the first place?

Yes. She was. But she was out of options. It was clear from the fact her other contacts hadn’t returned her phone calls that she was persona non grata in the industry right now. No one was willing to jump into the cross fire.

They ordered their breakfasts and turned the conversation to another topic, but the whole time Rachel was aware of the black rectangle of her phone screen on the table beside her. Maybe Alex had rethought his offer and decided he didn’t want to risk his reputation? Or maybe he hadn’t had the courage to tell her in person that he wasn’t serious about the offer of help.

Then, just as the server brought the bill, the screen lit up.

Come over anytime. I’ll be here.

“I guess we’re on,” she said. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Ana said. “And be careful.”

“We’ll want all the details tonight,” Melody added.

Ana picked up the tab, and then they were off their separate ways. And Rachel began praying she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

*   *   *

Alex’s building was a 1970s contemporary from the outside, all brownstone and glass with the boxy shape that characterized that area of the city. Rachel mercifully found parking down the street, from which she could study the place unobserved. If she hadn’t found the real estate listing and seen what one of the other penthouses looked like, she might doubt that he was being honest about its suitability as a venue.

“Stop procrastinating,” she told herself. She climbed out of her car and locked the door behind her, then made her way slowly into the lobby of the building.

Unlike the outside, the lobby was sleek and modern, with concrete floors and marble wall tiles leading to two elevators positioned at the exact center of the building. Her stomach quivered as she walked to them and punched the up button.

Silently, the elevator glided down to the ground floor and the doors slid open. She stepped in and pressed the button. Sure enough, the elevator only went up to floor fifteen.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” she told herself, even though she wasn’t sure if she was nervous about going alone to a strange man’s apartment or seeing Alex again. Maybe both.

She should have waited until Melody or Ana could come with her.

The elevator delivered her into a wide, square landing on the top floor, only four doors marking the hallway. As she’d read, four penthouse units. She found 1504 and rapped sharply on it. Almost immediately the door swung open.

“You came,” Alex said with a hint of surprise. “I’m glad. Come on in.”

He opened the door wider and stepped aside for her to enter. Clearly, he wasn’t trying to impress her; what man invited a woman over and then answered the door in bare feet, wearing paint-spattered sweatpants and a plain gray T-shirt?

A man who knows how good he looks in everything, her brain answered. Hard to tell whether it was a warning or a note of appreciation.

“So as you can see, it’s mostly a loft.” He extended a hand and walked forward as if he were a real estate agent giving her a tour. “Completely open floor plan, except for the bedroom, which is of course closed off, so you don’t need to see that. I have the dining area set up for eight right now, but the table has a leaf that we could extend for twelve. You weren’t thinking of more than that, were you?”

“No,” she murmured, turning in a circle. “Twelve would be fine.”

It was stunning. Even trying to find a reason this wouldn’t work, her imagination was dazzled by the possibilities. Big, open spaces with gleaming, acid-stained concrete floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows on one side of the living area, opening up a gorgeous view over the city. Contemporary decor that managed to be at once industrial and inviting, a mix of steel, glass, wood, and acrylic. Either he had an eye for interiors along with his writing talent or he had paid a pretty penny for a designer to fix it up.

“It’s lovely,” she said, understating the obvious. “You could hold a party three times the size here.”

“Would you like to check out the kitchen? Make sure it works for you?”

Rachel turned toward the adjacent kitchen. It was as modern as the rest of the place, with long expanses of counter space and a combination of sleek cabinetry and open shelving. A massive stainless-steel refrigerator was set into the wall on one side, and a semicommercial range took pride of place in the island.

She trailed a finger along the stainless steel of the wall ovens. “This is very nice. You cook?”

“No. I renovated it with an eye for resale, for someone who did cook.”

“You have excellent taste, then.”

He looked a little embarrassed. “I can’t take the credit. It was my ex who made all the design decisions.”

“Ex-wife?”

“Ex-girlfriend.” Amusement sparked in his hazel eyes. “She’s the reason I have this apartment in the first place. It was a pocket listing for her, an investor who had bought up the top floor of this building when it was converted from apartments to condos. He needed out fast, I had the money to invest . . . so I took half the floor. Oversaw the renovations, leased the other unit to pay for this one.” He shrugged. “It’s a little flashy, I admit, but the way real estate is going these days, it’s a good investment.”

It was more explanation than she needed, and that was telling. “The kitchen is more than adequate for my needs,” she said finally. “Especially considering I once catered a fraternity ball with a two-burner camp stove and a pressure cooker. Don’t ask.”

He chuckled, lighting his eyes with humor and firing that ridiculously engaging dimple again. “I won’t. But I bet it’s a pretty good story.”

“It is, actually.” She looked around and threw her hands up in defeat. “I honestly can’t find anything wrong with this place. It’s perfect.”

“Oh, but you haven’t seen it all yet. Come with me.” He gestured toward a spiral steel staircase at the far end of the room, in a nook beside what she assumed was his bedroom. Just as she reached the stairs, she stumbled into the railing. A fat orange tabby wove between her feet and then jumped up onto the back of the sofa.

“Sorry. Should have warned you about Sunshine. Didn’t think he’d make a run for it.”

Rachel looked from the cat to Alex, not sure which ridiculous statement to address first. “You have a male cat named Sunshine?”

“Technically, my sister has a male cat named Sunshine. One of her roommates turned out to be allergic and she talked me into taking him until she gets her own place.” Alex’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Which was three years ago, so I’m beginning to think we’re stuck with each other. Even if Dina is the only human he actually likes.”

Rachel cast another look at Sunshine and followed Alex up the spiral staircase. Somehow, the fact he was sharing this modern space with a slothlike feline commended him more than anything he could have said. Not that serial killers couldn’t be animal lovers, but the bemused resignation on his face would be hard to fake.

He led her through a narrow steel door at the top of the stairs, and she stopped short, a gasp leaving her lips. As spectacular as the condo had been, the rooftop deck was even more beautiful. Brick half-walls enclosed it and gave it some privacy from the other patios; potted plants and trees around the outside edges made it a garden wonderland. A long metal table dominated the center of the wood-decked space, with smaller conversation areas set up among the plants. He had even strung lights up above.

And the view: she could see all the way south to the edge of the city. At night, there would be no better place to be.

“It’s gorgeous,” she said. “I love your garden. Your ex’s doing as well?”

He smiled. “Now that, I can take credit for. My mother always kept a garden and I was cheap labor. Came in handy up here.” He moved to a potted lemon, twisted a bright-yellow fruit off a stem, and handed it to her. “It’s nice to be able to grab fruit right off the tree. Of course I bring the citrus inside during the winter.”

Rachel stood at the railing, the sun beating down on her skin and a refreshing breeze ruffling her hair. It really was beautiful. Romantic, even. How many women had he brought up here?

And why did it matter to her in the first place?

“So what do you think?” he asked. “Is it okay?”

“It’s perfect.” She turned to him, found him watching her a little nervously from by the door. What did he have to be nervous about? “I think I’d do cocktails and dinner downstairs, and then digestifs above afterwards. Because it’s summer, it could be timed for sunset. It would be spectacular.”

“So we’re on? Partners?”

Faced with the final decision, the practical, suspicious side of her psyche reared its head. “Alex, tell me the truth. What do you get out of it?”

He pressed his lips together for a second, as if he were thinking. Her heart beat a little faster. “Honestly?”

“No, lie to me. Yes, honestly.”

He cracked a smile. “For one, I get to stop feeling like a world-class jerk for what I did to your career. For another, I get to show off for my friends and family by throwing a couple of really spectacular dinner parties. Most of them think I sit around in my sweatpants and stare at the wall all day.” He looked down at himself and then held up a finger, his dimple surfacing again. “Don’t say it. And third, I get to spend time with you.”

Her lungs stopped working as she stared at him, all sorts of unhelpful things floating through her head. And then he grinned.

She let out a sigh of relief. “You almost had me there.”

“What? I’m being completely serious!”

“Yeah, sure you are.” She looked around her. “Are you sure you really want to do this? It’s going to be a lot of work, and you barely know me.”

“I’ve got nothing but time.”

Rachel took a deep breath, part of her unable to believe she was about to embark on such a huge venture with a complete stranger. But she had no choice. This was her best chance to get her life back.

“Okay then. Let’s do this.”