CHAPTER SIX
Grant
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here any earlier, Mr. Sommerfield.”
I shook the interior decorator’s extended hand as we stood inside 3C — her apartment. The sharp scent of burned plastic hadn’t faded much, but the air was clear, thanks to the industrial fans I’d ordered the maintenance crew to put in place. Tomorrow, the cleaning would start but I wanted Dina Howard to get a sense of the space before everything was taken away.
“No apologies necessary. I appreciate you coming at such short notice.”
I went on and gave her my bullshit story about using this particular apartment as a template for other renovations. It sounded good. It sounded plausible even. But the real reason I wanted this apartment completely overhauled and made beautiful was her.
Journey Walker.
A woman with an interesting name and the clearest blue eyes I’d ever seen.
The woman I’d hoped to get another glimpse of tonight, mostly to see if the strange dagger of desire pierced just as deeply the second time around as it had the first. But neither Journey nor her sister were there, although it was clear that they had been.
Some of their belongings were gone, including the bag and physical therapy jacket I’d seen earlier. The bathroom had been cleared out too, the expected toiletries nowhere to be seen.
I’d missed her.
Shit. I miss her.
How did you miss someone you’d only known for fifteen minutes?
I’d surprised even myself with the offer to fully renovate her apartment, but once it was out there, I’d known that I didn’t want to just stop at a cleaning and new furniture. I wanted her to think of me every time she opened the door.
“For some reason, this sofa is special to the occupants,” I said as I walked over to lay a hand on its worn back. I remembered the look of panic in Journey’s eyes at the thought of losing it, how the panic had turned to a deep sadness that seemed to seep from her every pore.
No, Journey Walker had probably never won a game of poker in her life. Her eyes were too guileless, her face exposing every emotion she was feeling.
Her love for her sister.
Her affection for this sofa.
Her desire for me.
What was between us wasn’t one-sided, I knew that right away. And I also knew to have gained her attention was special. I fully believed that Journey wasn’t a woman who made foolish or headlong decisions.
With one ear, I listened to Dina talk about the space and how fortunate we were to have ten-foot ceilings to work with. “I’m thinking we go vertical to enhance the space. How tall are the sisters?”
I blinked, forcing my attention back on the designer. “Excuse me, you asked how tall the women are?”
She gave me a patient smile. “Yes. Their height.”
Journey wasn’t a short woman, nor was she overly tall. The top of her head would fit just under my chin, I knew because I’d already imagined doing just that. Tall enough that I’d only have to bend my head just a little to kiss her. Slim enough that it would take no effort to lift her up until her legs were around my waist and we were eye to eye.
“Mr. Sommerfield?”
Damn, my concentration was shit. “Five and a half feet for the older sister. A little under five feet for the younger, I’d guess.”
Dina smiled. “This would be perfect then. Even if they were taller, this would…”
Some pictures drew my attention, and I wandered over to a table with five or six frames gathered there while Dina went on about sleeping arrangements. There were three people in each of the photos. Journey, Jasmine, and an older woman. In the oldest photo, Journey looked to be five or six years old, Jasmine still an infant in the older woman’s arms.
Their grandmother, I guessed.
I’d gone through tenant files, wanting to learn more about the living situation, and discovered that Melinda Walker had passed away a year ago today, leaving the apartment to her grandchildren. As the dick building supervisor had complained about, their apartment was rent control because of how long the Walkers had lived there. But still… I glanced around the small space. Eighteen hundred a month for so little space was a rip-off, and it embarrassed me to know how much I was profiting from Journey’s hard work.
I hadn’t owned this building for long. A month and a half if that, and I’d been too busy to do a full analysis of each space to see what improvements needed to be made. The meeting today was supposed to have remedied that. A meeting I needed to reschedule since I missed it because of the fire.
Gritting my teeth, I wondered what I’d have thought of Charles Gains if I’d first met him sitting around a boardroom table instead of hurling insults at innocent women. If the timing had been different, I might have never known of his shoddy treatment of my tenants, but the sight of the fire truck had changed the course of events.
And I’d met her.
Picking up what looked to be the most recent picture, I ran a thumb over Journey’s face, her arms around her grandmother, who didn’t look well. Jasmine was leaning over the back of the sofa I immediately recognized as the one still in this room.
Was that why Journey didn’t want it destroyed?
I understood.
I touched my scar, touched the chip in my tooth I refused to have fixed. Sometimes, you needed to remember. Needed something to hold on to, even if it didn’t make sense.
Walking back to the sofa, I ran my hand over the fabric again. The floral was actually pretty ghastly. I wasn’t a floral kind of man.
“Can this be saved?” I asked Dina, who was standing on a chair, measuring the windows.
She climbed down and inspected the sofa closely… and shook her head. “There are already holes everywhere and places so thin they’ll fail very soon.” She pushed down on the cushions, which gave under her weight. I could practically hear the worn frame groan with the effort. “The entire structure is no longer solid and needs to go.” She crossed her arms over her chest, tapping a finger against her cheek. “But I have an idea that I think you and the women will like.”
And she was off again, pointing out colors and talking about things I didn’t care about.
“And this can be done by Friday evening?”
Dina heaved out a breath and planted her hands on her hips. “I would have loved more time, but I’ll make sure it’s done by… five o’clock?”
I nodded, feeling something untighten in my chest. “Perfect. Then I’ll leave all the details to you. Call if you run upon any snags.”
She started tapping her cheek again. “We haven’t talked budget, Mr. Sommerfield.”
I met her gaze. “For this particular apartment, there isn’t one. Go all the way.”
She beamed, even though there was a silent question behind her eyes. Why? I could tell she was itching to ask it, curious as to why this place meant so much. I’d been working with Dina for several years now, and while I wouldn’t say we were friends, we were friendly. But I didn’t give her time to ask the question.
With a nod, I strode from the space and headed down the stairs, narrowing my eyes when I passed the supervisor’s apartment. Bastards. Chafed my ass that I couldn’t evict the sorry pair right then and right there.
Wayne saw me the second I stepped out of the building, and he was holding the door to my Maybach open before I was even on the street. “Where to now, Mr. Sommerfield?”
“Home.” But before the car was even in drive, I changed my mind. “Let’s drive by the Marmara first.”
I could feel his gaze on me in the rearview mirror but kept my own eyes on my phone, pulling up the hotel information my assistant had sent me. “Yes, sir.”
What the hell was I doing? I asked myself a dozen times as we covered the blocks leading to the hotel.
Just making sure they were settling in okay.
Just making sure they knew their apartment would be ready on Friday.
Just…
Shit.
I just wanted to see her again.
That was the bottom line… and I hated it. And was powerless to stop it. Powerless to stop my body’s reaction every time her face appeared in my thoughts.
I was also curious to see if my response to her would be the same upon seeing her a second time.
Wayne cleared his throat. “We’re here, sir.”
I looked up, then around. I hadn’t even realized we’d arrived at the hotel. My focus had once again been so channeled, I’d not paid attention to my surroundings. My therapists said that I “channeled my thoughts into intense focusing” so I wouldn’t allow my brain to “veer into painful territory.” But by being blessed and cursed with a photographic memory, I’d needed intense focus after the… accident. I would have driven myself crazy otherwise.
I stepped from the car, narrowing my eyes at a smirking Wayne. “I won’t be long.”
He attempted to control his face, but his lips kept quirking upwards. “Take your time, sir. Do you need the young lady’s room number? Directions to her door?”
I attempted to ignore my faithful driver, one of the few people I trusted. “Shut up.”
A soft laugh was cut off as he clamped his lips shut. He composed himself with what looked like some effort. “Yes, sir.”
Striding into the building, I found the elevator immediately, taking it to the top floor. Nerves jangled in my stomach as I stepped into the hallway leading to the best suite available.
Chastising myself, I knocked, giving myself no additional time to overthink my actions. I waited, then knocked again. Then again.
Shit. They weren’t here.
Ridiculously forlorn, I headed back to the elevator and the lobby, deciding it was better this way. I had no business sniffing after a tenant like this, or practically stalking anyone for that matter.
Then I smelled it. Chlorine. And I remembered the sister’s love of swimming. Turning on my heel, I followed the distinctive scent.
Laughter poured through the glass door as sharply as the smell of the pool. I pulled, but it was locked and needed a keycard for entry.
Another laugh drew my attention to the far end of the lap pool. Jasmine was climbing a ladder, her short, stout legs flying up the rungs. She yelled something that sounded like “Cannonball,” and sure enough, she leaped from the edge with perfect cannonball skill, thoroughly soaking her already soaked sister.
All I could see was a dark head poking out of the water, then hands and arms lifting to wipe water from her face. More laughter as the sisters wrestled in the water, then Journey broke free and swam toward the ladder.
She began to climb, revealing her shoulders, back, ass, then legs as she rose from the pool, a yellow bikini covering very little.
Dear god.
My balls tightened when she turned and raised her arms to ring the water from her hair. Her breasts were small with only a hint of cleavage rising above the triangles of her suit. Lean and well muscled, she looked at ease in her own skin, not paying an ounce of attention to the men leering in her direction.
Leering. Just like I was.
“Excuse me.”
I stepped back to discover two teenaged girls behind me. They giggled as one extended a card and opened the door. Taking it as a sign, I stepped through but stayed close to the wall, my eyes finding Journey again as I immediately began to sweat from the humidity of the room.
“Cannonball,” Jasmine yelled from the water.
Journey smiled and walked backwards from the edge, giving herself space to run. “Here I come!”
She took two long steps, leaped, curled herself into a ball. And our eyes met. Hers popped open, then her mouth, just before she hit water. I laughed and grabbed a towel from a cabinet of folded ones, striding to the side of the pool as she came up sputtering.
“That was a fail,” Jasmine yelled, patting her sister on the back. “Four points at most.”
“M-Mr. Sommerf—”
“Grant,” I said, squatting down to hand the towel to her. “You okay?”
Her cheeks grew pink but her eyes… god, those eyes… held humor in their soft blue depths. “Yeah. I was just surprised to see you standing there.”
I held out a hand. She hesitated, then placed her palm against mine. I stood and hauled her up, chlorinated water cascading down her perfect body, puddling at my Italian loafered feet, splashing the legs of my six-thousand-dollar suit. And I didn’t care. Not at all.
Glancing back at the water, I was going to offer Jasmine the same boost, but she was already heading for the ladder. And I was still holding Journey’s hand. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I promise. I do goofball things sometimes. Ignore me.”
Like I could ever ignore her.
We smiled at each other, my eyes taking in every inch of her face. She was practically naked in front of me, but I was captivated by the flurry of freckles on her nose, the little mole just above her upper lip. The water still captured in her eyelashes, the dark slash of her eyebrows.
“Hi, Grant. This is the best hotel ever!” The trance was interrupted by the appearance of her sister at our sides.
I was still holding Journey’s hand. She blushed and tugged. With deep regret, I let her go and smiled at Jasmine. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I just stopped by to see if you two were settling in and if you needed anything.”
“Ice cream.”
I laughed, and Journey groaned. “You’ve already had ice cream, Jazzy.”
Jasmine wrinkled her nose. “But it was only a little one and you made me share your burger.”
My head swiveled to Journey, who looked embarrassed to her very core. She patted the towel to her face before handing it to her sister. “Food here is expensive,” she muttered and headed over to the rack of towels for another.
Damn, her skin was impossibly smooth looking, and my hands itched to see if it was as soft as it appeared. I turned back to Jasmine so I wouldn’t be caught staring. “I want you to charge anything you want to the hotel. The next few days are on me.”
Jasmine’s mouth turned down. “Journey won’t like that. She says that we’re supposed to pay our own way through life. That we need to be independable.”
“Independent,” Journey gently corrected, coming back to her sister’s side.
Jasmine frowned. “No. Independable. That means we’re independent and dependable at the same time.” She rolled her eyes at me. “My sister doesn’t speak Down’s.”
I laughed, and after a brief second, Journey did too. “My sister missed her calling as a stand-up comedian I think.”
Jazzy slapped her own leg. “I’ve got a million of them.”
I took in the girl, enjoying our exchange. Her words were sometimes slurred and difficult to understand, but overall, she spoke amazingly well. Her eyes had the typical Down Syndrome appearance, and were the same light blue color as her sister’s, but Jasmine’s eyes had white specks in the irises that reminded me of ice floating in an artic sea.
“Well, as much as I’m sure Mr. Sommerf—”
My nostrils flared in irritation. “Grant.” The word came out closer to a growl than I’d intended.
Journey’s eyes widened, and she licked her lips, drawing my attention to the pillowy pink softness that seemed destined to be kissed. “Grant.” She cleared her throat and pushed her hair back from her face, water dripping from the ends. “As much as I’m sure Grant would love to hear your jokes, I’m sure he’s very busy, and it’s getting late. I have to be up early for work.”
Shit. I was losing her.
“Is the hotel taking care of your clothes?”
She nodded, her cheeks growing pink. “Yes, thank you. You were right, it was a wonderful relief not to have to do so much work on my own. Thank you.” Those clear blue eyes leveled on me. “I mean it. Thank you, for everything. Your generosity will never be forgotten.”
“Yeah… you’re our sugar daddy.”
Journey’s mouth sagged open, and I barked out a laugh as both of us looked at Jasmine, who was grinning, wrapping a towel around her body. “Jaz!”
Jasmine lifted a shoulder. “What?”
Still looking completely mortified, Journey stared at her sister. “That isn’t something we say out loud.”
Hmm… that made me wonder if the sisters had said something similar privately. Had I misjudged Journey? Had she seen me as a ticket? Was this guileless appearance just an act?
Was she just like all the other women I’d encountered?
The thought was like a punch in the gut.
My entire body stiffened when Journey’s hand came down on my arm. “I’m sorry. Jaz and I had been joking about needing a sugar daddy, but it was only a joke.”
Jasmine realized her error and took a step back, lowering her chin to her chest. “I was the one who joked about it. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it wasn’t nice. I like sugar. And I never met my daddy even though I’ve always wanted to, so sugar daddies sound like a good thing.” She was close to tears now. “I don’t think it’s a good thing.”
Journey wrapped an arm around her sister, causing her towel to slip and fall to the floor. “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then why do I feel bad?”
I stuffed my hands in my pockets, unsure of what to say or do.
“Because you have a big heart, Jaz, and big hearts feel everything more than normal hearts do.”
Jasmine looked up through her lashes, her chin still on her chest. “No, it’s because I’m dumb.” I flinched when she hit the side of her head with her hand. “I don’t mean to be dumb.”
Grabbing her wrist, I pulled it down from her face. “You’re not dumb, Jasmine. At all. I happen to think you’re funny and wonderful.” Journey gave me a grateful smile, but Jasmine didn’t seem convinced. “You know, there are times when I feel really dumb too.”
Jasmine lifted her head an inch. “You do?”
I nodded. “Yeah. When I was younger, I made really stupid decisions. I was selfish and wrong.”
The head lifted another inch. “Like what?”
Shit.
I didn’t want to confess my dumbassness, and I didn’t want to think back on the past. But this girl was looking at me with such curiosity, such… need.
Redirect. Redirect.
“How about we go to the hotel restaurant and grab a bite to eat?”
Jasmine’s head snapped fully up at that. “Can I have an entire burger to myself?”
Journey blushed and bent down to pick up her towel. Damn, her ass was world-class.
“You can order anything you want from the menu.”
Jasmine looked down at her bathing suit. “Can we go into a restaurant like this?”
I took in the tiny yellow bikini. No. I didn’t want anyone else eyeing what was mine.
Mine?
What the hell was I thinking?
I forced my attention back on Jasmine. “How about you tell me what you want, and I’ll place our orders while you change upstairs?”
Jasmine grinned. “Then you’ll tell me your dumb stories?” She squinted at me. “Does it have anything to do with your scar?”
Journey opened her mouth, clearly about to chastise her sister again, but I held up a hand, stopping her.
My chest felt heavy as I thought about those scars and how they came to be. I scratched the growth of beard that covered the worst of them. “Yes. It has everything to do with my scars. But that’s a long story. Maybe I’ll just tell you all the dumb things I’ve done just this week.”
Jasmine grinned. “Deal.”