If only she knew who he really was, what the last few weeks had meant.
She was going to set that aside and read while she used heated mitts to soothe her aching hand. Even inside her apartment with the windows closed and the air conditioner running, she could feel the damp, humid, ominous promise of the impending storm. The weather forecast called for heavy rain and thunderstorms, but so far only dark clouds hung above the rooftops. It was the perfect kind of night to stay home, read a good book, and decompress.
Her phone chirped with a call from an unrecognized number. She ignored it until it rang again immediately. She looked more closely at the screen. The call was from a 212 area code. Ignoring it, she set her phone down and picked up her electronic reader, but when the phone rang a third time from the same phone number, she picked it up again, her thumb on the button to power it down. But she hesitated, then answered. “Hello?”
“It’s Ryan.”
As if she didn’t recognize his voice. “How did you get this number? This is my mobile number, not my business number.”
“Connections in all the wrong places. I need you to come out to the Hamptons.”
Her jaw dropped. “What? No! I’m not driving out to the Hamptons in this weather, in weekend rush-hour traffic! For one thing, I don’t have a car—”
“Take a cab to the helipad at the South Street Seaport. I’ve chartered a helicopter for you. It’s under your name.”
Her jaw dropped again. “I can’t afford that.”
“I can.”
“Ryan, this is insane.” She shoved open the window without the AC unit in it and looked to the west. Still brooding, ominous, impossible. Like Ryan. “Have you looked at the sky?”
“Simone. Please. I’m begging you. Please.”
He meant it. The quiver in his voice, the hoarse tone, told her that. He was actually begging. Until now, Ryan commanded. Now he was begging.
“Fine. But never again. Do you hear me? Never again do you call me, or cross my doorstep. Lose this number. This is it, Ryan.”
Silence hummed in her ear. Then, “Bring an overnight bag. You’ll just barely beat the storm, so the chopper won’t be able to get you back to the city.”
She disconnected and went to throw her sewing kit, a change of clothes, and toiletries in her Louis Vuitton weekend bag. If she was going to cater to a rich man’s needs, she might as well play the part.
She was in the cab and heading south toward the tip of Manhattan before she realized she hadn’t asked him why he wanted her there.
Chapter Eight
The helicopter was, indeed, waiting for her, the pilot’s smile forced and his eyes strained behind his aviator shades. He offered to take her bag; she was barely buckled into the backseat before the skids left the cement. They gained speed and distance quickly, the rotors chopping and heaving through the air; the ride smoothed out only slightly as they cleared the storm’s leading edge. When they landed, another man in mirrored shades and a black suit drove her from the landing pad to a house on the beach. Tall grass bent to the east under the oncoming storm’s power. Simone claimed her bag from the trunk and climbed the stairs to the front door.
Lily hauled open the door, dressed in a Pucci sheath, her heels dangling from her fingers. Her hair was tousled, sexy, as if Ryan had just had his hands in it, or she’d spent an hour styling it to look like Ryan had just had his hands in it. Shock, then disbelief, then a righteous anger flooded her face. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
The first fat raindrops splatted against the weathered deck. “May I come in?” Simone asked.
Lily ignored her, instead leaning around the door to shout at the driver. “Don’t leave!”
“Ma’am?” he called back, confused.
“I need a ride!” she yelled, stepping into first one heel, then the second.
“Where?”
“Anywhere!” She looked at Simone again. “Anywhere you aren’t. You want him that badly? You can have him. I’m not taking someone’s leftovers.”
“It’s not like that,” Simone said through her teeth, gripping what was left of her temper. “He called to ask if I’d adjust something for you. You’re ready to go out for the evening. I’ll—”
She stopped. Ryan hadn’t asked her to adjust anything. He’d asked her to come to him.